From 

Dr.  John  F.  Patterson's 

Library 

Given  to  me  by 

Mrs.  Spencer  G.  Harvey 

June  1925 

BS   2419    .K6   1904 
Knight,   G.   H.    1835-1917. 
The  Master's  questions  to 
his  disciples 

THE  MASTER'S   QUESTIONS 

TO 

HIS    DISCIPLES 


"He  to  whom  the  Eternal  Woed  speaks  is  delivered  from  a 
multitude  of  opinions." — Thomas  k  Kempis. 


T 


he  Master's  Questions  to 
His  Disciples      ^     -h     .|- 


By  the 

REV.  G.   H.   KNIGHT 


NEW  YORK 

A.    C.    ARMSTRONG    AND    SON 

3  AND  5  WEST  EIGHTEENTH  STREET 
1904 


.^x  OF  PRi/vcr^ 

JUN      B    1999 


y/ 


CNWIN  BEOTHEES,  LIMITED,  THE  GEESHAM  PEESS,  WOKING  AND  LONDON. 


PREFACE 


The  Questions  which  our  Lord  addressed  to  His 
disciples  at  various  times  are  here  gathered 
together  from  the  Four  Gospels,  and  arranged  to 
form  the  basis  of  a  series  of  meditations  for  those 
private  hours,  whether  on  the  Lord's  Day  or  on 
other  days,  which  every  Christian  heart  dehghts 
to  set  apart  as  silent  hours  with  God. 

These  meditations,  being  meant  for  Christians, 
have  been  written  in  such  a  personal  form  that 
each  reader  may  adopt  them  as  his  own. 

I  have  purposely  omitted  all  those  often  deeply 
suggestive  questions  which  Christ  addressed  to 
the  general  multitude,  to  the  undecided,  and  to 
His  open  foes;  and  have  confined  myself  entirely 
to  those  which  He  addressed  to  His  own  disciples 
and  friends.  I  have  also  purposely  called  them 
''  The  Mastek's  Questions,"  rather  than  "  The 
Questions  of  Jesus,"  in  order  to  emphasise  the 
truth  that  one  of  the  greatest  needs  of  the  day 
is  that  Christian  men  and  women  should  realise 
for  themselves,  and  exhibit  to  others.  His  absolute 
sovereignty  over  them^  as  the  supreme  Lord  of  the 
conscience,  the  will,  the  affections,  and  the  life; 
and  should  in  this  way  prove,  not  merely  their 


vi  PREFACE 

love  to  One  who  has  redeemed  them,  but  their 
surrender  also,  to  One  who,  because  He  has  re- 
deemed them,  claims  them  for  Himself,  and  says, 
*' Follow  Me." 

The  treatment  of  these  in  this  volume  is  not 
Critical;  neither  is  it  greatly  Exegetical ;  but 
almost  wholly  Devotional  and  Practical. 

In  such  a  volume  there  cannot,  obviously,  be 
any  organic  unity :  there  can  only  be  variety. 
The  Master's  questions,  asked,  as  they  were,  at 
different  times,  and  in  widely  differing  circum- 
stances, are  so  distinct  and  separate  from  each 
other  that  they  resemble,  not  leaves  and  flowers 
springing  out  of  the  same  stem,  but  rather  pearls 
threaded  on  one  string. 

Their  very  variety,  however,  invests  them  with 
a  peculiar  interest :  for,  as  will  be  seen,  there  is 
hardly  any  department  of  life  or  of  experience 
which  they  do  not  cover ;  and  there  is  in  them 
a  wonderful  mingling  of  warning  and  of  comfort, 
of  keenest  heart-searching  and  of  Divinest  con- 
solation. 

If  the  blessing  of  the  Great  Master  Himself  shall 
accompany  the  reading  of  these  chapters,  and  any 
of  His  disciples  be  thereby  led  to  a  higher  faith, 
a  larger  trust,  a  deeper  self-scrutiny,  and  a  heartier 
consecration,  my  aim  in  writing  them  will  be 
attained. 

Gaeelochhead. 


CONTENTS 


PA6B 

1  V 


Y 


NOT  WOBRY,  BUT  TRUST  .... 

"  Is  not  the  life  more  than  meat  ?  and  the  body  than  raiment  ? 
Behold  the  fowls  of  the  air  :  they  sow  not,  neither  do  they  reap, 
.  .  .  yet  your  heavenly  Father  feedeth  them.  Are  ye  not 
much  better  than  they?" — Matthew  vi.  25-30, 

II 

CONFIDENCE   IN  PRAYER  .... 

"If  ye,  being  evil,  know  how  to  give  good  gifts  unto  your 
children,  how  much  more  shall  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven 
give  good  things  to  them  that  ask  Him  ?  " — Matthew  vii.  11 ;  '^ 
Luke  xi.  5-8.  v^- 

in 

SUBMISSION   IN   PRAYER  .  .  .  .      IG 

"  What  man  is  there  of  you,  whom  if  his  son  ask  bread,  will 
he  give  him  a  stone  ?  or  if  he  ask  a  fish,  will  he  give  him  a 
serpent  ?  " — Matthew  vii.  9, 10. 


IV 

CONSPICUOUS  DISCIPLESHIP       .  ,  .  .      23>^ 

•'  Is  a  candle  brought  to  be  put  under  a  bushel  or  under  a  bed  ? 
and  not  to  be  set  on  a  candlestick  ?  " — Maek  iv.  21. 
vii 


vlii  CONTENTS 

V 

FACE 

JUST  ESTIMATES  .  .  .  .  .      31  ^ 

"  Why  beholdest  thou  the  mote  that  is  in  thy  brother's  eye,  but 
considerest  not  the  beam  that  is  in  thine  own  eye  ?  " 

Matthew  vii.  3. 

VI 

AN   INFALLIBLE   TEST    .  .  .  .  .38 

"  Do  men  gather  grapes  of  thorns,  or  figs  of  thistles  ?  " 

Matthew  vii.  IG. 

VII 

SAVOUELESS   SALT  .  .  .  .  .45 

"  Ye  are  the  salt  of  the  earth  :  but  if  the  salt  has  lost  its  savour, 
wherewith  shall  it  be  salted  ?  " — Matthew  v.  13. 

VIII 

NOT   FEAB,   BUT   TRUST  .  .  .  .      52  ^ 

"Why  are  ye  fearful,  0  ye  of  little  faith?"  "Where  is 
your  faith  ?  "  •'  How  is  it  that  ye  have  no  faith  ?  "  "0  thou 
of  little  faith,  wherefore  didst  thou  doubt?  " — Matthew  viii. 
26  :  Luke  viii.  25;  Mark  iv.  iO;  Matthew  xiv.  31.  . 

IX 

THE   NICKNAMED   CHRIST  .  .  .  .      59  '■ 

"  If  they  have  called  the  Master  of  the  house  Beelzebub,  how 
much  more  shall  they  call  them  of  His  household  ?  " 

Matthew  x.  25. 

X 

DULL  MINDS  AND   MEMORIES     .  .  .  .66 

"Perceive  ye  not  yet,  neither  understand?  ...  Do  ye  not 
remember?"  "  Know  ye  not  this  parable  ?  How  then  will  ye 
know  all  parables  ?  "  "  Are  ye  also  yet  without  understand- 
ing? "—Mark  viii.  17-21 ;  Mark  iv.  13;  Matthew  xv.  16. 

s/ 


CONTENTS  ix 

XI 

PAGE 

THE   HIDING   OF   HIS   POWER      .  .  .  .73 

"  How  many  loaves  have  ye  ?  "  "  Whence  shall  we  buy  bread, 
that  these  may  eat  ?  " — Matthew  sv.  3i ;  John  vi.  5. 

"WHAT  THINK  YE   OF   CHRIST?"  .  .  .80 

"Whom  do  men  say  that  I  the  Son  of  man  am?"  "But 
whom  say  ye  that  I  am  ?  " — jMatthew  xvi.  13,  15. 

XIII 

THE   CIRCUMSPECTION   OF   THE   FREE    .  .  .87  ^ 

"  Of  whom  do  the  kings  of  the  earth  take  custom  or  tribute  ? 
of  their  own  children,  or  of  strangers  ?  " — Matthew  xvii.  25. 

XIV 
DIVINE    SHEPHERDHOOD  .  .  .  .      94       "^ 

"Doth  he  not  leave  the  ninety  and  nine,  and  goeth  into  the 
mountains,  and  seeketh  that  which  is  gone  astray  ?  " 

Matthew  sviii.  12. 

XV 

SMALL  BEGINNINGS  AND   GREAT   ENDINGS  .  .   101  v^ 

"  Because  I  said  unto  thee,  I  saw  thee  under  the  fig-tree, 
believest  thou?  thou  shalt  see  greater  things  than  these." 
— John  i.  50. 

XVI 
HARVEST  HOPE  .....    108 

"  Say  not  ye.  There  are  yet  four  months,  and  then  cometh 
harvest  ?  " — John  iv.  35. 

XVII 
WISE    STEWARDSHIP        .....    115       ^ 

"  Who  then  is  a  faithful  and  wise  servant  ?  " — ]Matthew  xxiv.  45. 


X  CONTENTS 

XVIII 

PASS 

UNPROFITABLE   SERVANTS  ....   122 

"  Doth  he  thank  that  servant  because  he  did  the  things  that 
were  commanded  him  ?  " — Luke  xvii.  7-10. 

XIX 

HEROIC  CHRISTIANITY  .....  129 ' 
"  What  do  ye  more  than  others?  "—Matthew  v.  47. 

XX 

PROFESSION  WITHOUT  PRACTICE  .  .  .   136 

"  Why  call  ye  me,  Lord,  Lord,  and  do  not  the  things  which  I 
say  ?  "—Luke  vi.  46. 

XXI 

NO  CROSS,  NO  CROWN   .....   143 

"  Are  ye  able  to  drink  of  the  cup  that  I  shall  drink  of,  and  to 
be  baptized  with  the  baptism  that  I  am  baptized  with  ?  ' ' 

Matthew  xx.  21 ;  xx.  22 ;  Mark  x.  36. 

XXII 

SWORD  AND  FIRE  .  .  .  .  .   150^' 

•'  I  am  come  to  send  fire  on  the  earth;  and  what  will  I,  if  it  be 
already  kindled  ?  "  "  Suppose  ye  that  I  am  come  to  give  peace 
on  earth  ?  "—Luke  xii.  49,  61. 

XXIII 

DELAY  IS  NOT  DENIAL  ....  157 

•'  Shall  not  God  avenge  His  own  elect,  which  cry  day  and  night 
unto  Him,  though  He  bear  long  with  them?  .  .  .  Neverthe- 
less, when  the  Son  of  man  cometh,  shall  He  find  faith  on 
the  earth?" — Luke  xviii.  7,  8. 


CONTENTS  xi 

XXIV 

PAGE 

BLINDNESS  ......   164 

"  Can  the  blind  lead  the  blind?  shall  they  not  both  fall  into 
the  ditch  ?  "—Luke  vi.  39. 

XXV 

THOUGHT-BEADING  .  .  .  .  .171 

"What  was  it  that  ye  disputed  among  yourselves   by  the 
way  ?  "— Maek  ix.  33. 

XXVI  / 

UNTHANKFULNESS  .....  178 

"  Were  there  not  ten  cleansed  ?  but  where  are  the  nine  ?  " 

Luke  xvii.  17. 

XXVII 

THE  ALL-SUFFICING  CHRIST      ....   185 
"  Will  ye  also  go  away?  " — John  vi.  67. 

XXVIII 

PROFIT  AND  LOSS  .....   192'-^ 

"  What  is  a  man  advantaged,  if  he  gain  the  whole  world,  and 
lose  himself,  or  be  cast  away  ?  " — Luke  ix.  25 ;  Matthew  xvi.  26. 

XXIX 

A  SERPENT  IN  PARADISE  ....   199 

"Have  not  I  chosen  you  twelve,  and  one  of  you  is  a  devil  ? " 

John  vi.  70. 

XXX 

COURAGEOUS   CALM         .  .  .  .  .206' 

"  Are  there  not  twelve  hours  in  the  day  ?  " — John  xi.  9. 


xii  CONTENTS 

XXXI 

PAGE 

A   SPECIALISING  FAITH.  ....   213 

"  Believest  thou  this  ?  "—John  xi.  2G. 


XXXII 
TENDERNESS       ......   220   ' 

•'  Where  have  ye  laid  Him?  "—John  xi.  33,  34. 

XXXIII 

THROUGH  FAITH  TO   SIGHT        ....   227  "' 
"Said  I  not  unto  thee,  that,  if  thou  wouldest  believe,  thou 
shouldest  see  the  glory  of  God  ?  " — John  xi.  40. 

XXXIV 

SUBLIME   DEVOTION   VINDICATED  .  .  .   234  V 

» '  Why  trouble  ye  the  woman  ?  for  she  hath  wrought  a  good 
work  upon  me." — Matthew  xxvi.  10. 

XXXV 
THE   SERVANT-MASTER  .....   241 

"Whether  is  greater,  he  that  sitteth  at  meat,  or  he  that 
serveth?  is  not  he  that  sitteth  at  meat  ?  but  I  am  among  you 
as  he  that  serveth." — Luke  xxii.  27. 

XXXVI 
THE   GREAT   EXAMPLE   .....   248  ' 
"  Know  ye  what  I  have  done  to  you  ?  " — John  xiii.  12. 


XXXVII  / 

ENTHUSIASM  WITHOUT  DEPTH.  .  .  .   255 

"Wilt  thou  lay  down  thy  life  for  My  sake?"    "Do  ye  now 
believe  ?  "—John  xiii.  88 ;  xvi.  31,  32. 


CONTENTS  xiii 

XXXVIII 

PAGE      4^ 

NEAR  AND   YET  UNKNOWN  ....   262 

"  Have  I  been  so  long  time  with  you,  and  yet  hast  thou  nob 
known  me,  Philip?  .  .  .  How  sayest  thou,  Show  us  the 
Father  ?  "—John  xiv.  9. 

XXXIX 

THE   MORNING   OF   JOT  .....   269 

"  Do  ye  inquire  among  yourselves  of  that  I  said,  A  little  while, 
and  ye  shall  not  see  Me  ;  and  again,  a  little  while,  and  ye  shall 
see  Me  ?  " — John  xvi.  19. 

XL 

A  NOBLE   TESTIMONY      .....   276 

«'  When  I  sent  you  without  purse,  and  scrip,  and  shoes,  lacked 
ye  anything?  " — Luke  xxii.  35. 

XLI 
ICHABOD  ......  283 

"  Seest  thou  these  great  buildings  ?  "— Maek  xiii.  2. 

XLII 

GETHSEMANE-SLEEP       .....  290 

'♦What,  could  ye  not  watch  with  Me  one  hour?"  "Why 
sleep  ye?"  "Simon,  sleepest  thou  ?  "—Matthew  xxvi;.40; 
Luke  xxii.  46 ;  Mark  xiv.  37.  ^^ 

XLIII 

A  traitor's  kiss         .....  297 

"  Friend,  wherefore  art  thou  come  ?  "  "  Judas,  betrayest  thou 
the  Son  of  man  with  a  kiss  ?  "—Matthew  xxvi.  50;  Luke 
xxii.  48.  ^' 


xiv  CONTENTS 

XLIV 

PAGE 

HIMSELF  HE   WOULD   NOT   SAVE  .  .  .   304 

"  Thinkest  thou  that  I  cannot  now  pray  to  My  Father,  and  He 
shall  presently  give  me  more  than  twelve  legions  of  angels?" 
—Matthew  xxvi.  53. 

XLV 

THE  VICTORY  OF  FAITH  ....  311 

"  The  cup  which  My  Father  hath  given  Me,  shall  I  not  drink 
it?"— JoHNxviii,  11. 

XLVI 

TEARS  WIPED  AWAY       .....  318 

"  Woman,  why  weepest  thou  ?  whom  seekest  thou  ?  " 

John  xx.  15. 

XLVII 

AN  EVENING  WALK         .....   325 

"  What  manner  of  communications  are  these  that  ye  have  one 
with  another,  as  ye  walk,  and  are  sad?  "—Luke  xxiv.  17. 

XLVIII 

OPENED  EYES    ......  332 

"  Ought  not  Christ  to  have  suffered  these  things,  and  to  enter 
into  His  glory  ?  "—Luke  xxiv.  25,  26. 

XLIX 

CHRIST  EVER  THE   SAME  ....  339 

"Why  are  ye  troubled?  and  why  do  thoughts  arise  in  your 
hearts  ?  "—Luke  xxiv.  38,  43. 

L 

THE  THOUGHTFULNESS  OF  CHRIST        .  .  .  346 

"Children,  have  ye  any  meat?  "—John  xxi.  5. 


CONTENTS  XV 

LI 

PAQE 

THE  DEEPEST  QUESTION  OF  ALL  .  .  .   353 

"  Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  lovest  thou  Me  more  than  these  ?  " 

JoHH  xzi.  15. 

LII 

A   SINGLE   EYE    ......   360 

"  What  is  that  to  thee  ?  follow  thou  Me."— John  xsi.  22. 


NOT   WOEEY,   BUT   TEUST 

"Is  not  the  life  more  than  meat,  and  the  body  than  raiment? 
Behold  the  fowls  of  the  air  :  for  they  sow  not,  neither  do  they  reap, 
nor  gather  into  barns  ;  yet  your  heavenly  Father  feedeth  them.  Are 
ye  not  much  better  than  they  ?  Which  of  you  by  taking  thought  can 
add  one  cubit  unto  his  stature  ?  Why  take  ye  thought  for  raiment  ? 
...  If  God  so  clothe  the  grass  of  the  field,  which  to-day  is,  and 
to-morrow  is  cast  into  the  oven,  shall  He  not  much  more  clothe 
you,  0  ye  of  little  faith  ?  "—Matthew  vi.  25-30. 

I  AM  sure  there  must  have  been  a  beautiful  smile 
on  the  Master's  face  as  He  spoke  these  tender 
and  cheering  words  to  His  disciples  about  simple 
trustfulness  in  the  Father's  care.  The  perfect 
trust  of  His  own  heart  must  have  been  looking 
out  of  His  eyes  straight  into  theirs  as  He  spoke 
to  them  about  the  birds  and  the  lilies,  and  said, 
"Are  not  ye  much  better  than  they?" 

What  He  forbids  here  is  not  foresight,  but  fore- 
boding, which  is  a  very  different  thing ;  not  a 
prudent  care  for  to-morrow,  but  that  distracting 
and  faithless  anxiety  which  anticipates  to-morrow 

2 


2  NOT  WORRY,   BUT  TRUST 

tremblingly,  always  imagining  the  worst.  ''  Do 
not  look  out  upon  your  life,"  says  the  Master, 
*'  with  this  tormenting  and  useless  fear,  but  rather 
with  the  calmest  trust ;  and  that  just  because  the 
God  of  your  life  is  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven. 
He  is  the  God  of  the  ravens  and  the  flowers,  but 
He  is  infinitely  more  to  you.  He  is  Father,  and 
not  merely  God.  The  eye  that  bends  over  you  is 
a  Father's  eye ;  the  heart  that  compassionates  you  is 
a  Father's  heart ;  the  hand  that  provides  for  you 
is  a  Father's  hand ;  and  He  loves  His  children  as 
He  does  not  love  His  birds  and  lilies.  These 
sometimes  lack  and  fade,  but  He  loves  His  own 
children  far  too  well  to  let  the?n  "  want  any  good 
thing." 

Here,  then,  is  my  Lord's  simple,  all-sufficient 
recipe  for  a  safe  and  happy  life,  "  Leave  every- 
thing to  the  love  of  your  Father  in  heaven ;  be  as 
a  child  in  His  house,  and  let  Him  do  all  the  house- 
keeping for  you."  No  being  on  earth  is  so  abso- 
lutely free  from  anxiety  as  a  little  child.  How  he 
is  to  be  provided  for  he  does  not  know.  Where 
his  next  meal  is  to  come  from  he  cannot  tell.  All 
that  he  knows  is  that  loving  hearts  are  caring  for 
him,  and  so  he  feels  sure  they  will  not  let  him 
starve.  That  is  really  how  God  would  have  77ie 
feel.  A  child  in  my  Father's  house,  a  child  of 
His  love  !  What  more  do  I  need  than  just  to  be 
sure  of  that  ?  With  this  great  Father  to  care  for 
me,  is  it  worth  my  while  to  wear  my  life  out  with 


NOT  WORRY,  BUT  TRUST  3 

restless  anxieties  that,  even  at  the  best,  can  do 
nothing  to  secure  for  me  the  happiness  I  seek? 
The  teaching  of  my  Master  here  is  that  God,  as 
every  wise  and  loving  Father  does,  makes  pro- 
vision for  His  children's  need  before  the  need  has 
arisen.  The  world  was  full  of  bird-sustenance 
before  a  single  bird  was  in  it.  It  was  full  of 
flower-sustenance  before  a  flower  was  born.  He 
did  not  create  the  birds  and  then  cage  them  some- 
where till  He  could  provide  an  atmosphere.  He 
did  not  create  lilies  and  then  force  them  to  lie 
aside  till  He  had  leisure  to  provide  their  soil.  His 
rule  was  life-sustenance  first,  and  then  the  life  that 
needs  it.  Now,  if  He  has  already  provided  for  all 
my  possible  needs,  I  do  not  need  to  ask  Him  to 
create  supplies  for  me.  They  are  waiting  for  me — 
He  knows  where — and  He  will  bring  them  out  of 
His  treasury  just  when  my  need  has  come. 

So  then  He  would  raise  me  out  of  that  self- 
tormenting  anxiety,  that  sees  difficulties  and  trials 
on  every  horizon,  but  never  thinks  of  lifting  the 
face  to  the  blue  heaven  overhead;  that  always 
takes  the  darkest  view  of  things,  and  is  half  angry 
with  any  one  who  suggests  that  the  picture  may 
have  a  brighter  side  ;  that  turns  the  whole  joy  of 
life  into  a  pile  of  ruins,  and  invites  every  passer-by 
to  come  and  look  upon  the  desolation.  That  is  not 
only  folly,  it  is  sin  ;  and  will  inevitably  lead  on  to 
greater  sin,  to  bitter  discontent,  to  murmuring 
against  both  God  and  man,  to  a  hard   "fretting 


4  NOT  Worry,  but  trust 

against  the  Lord."     And  yet,  what  multitudes  of 
such    careworn    and    unhappy    souls    there   are ! 
Sometimes,   as  I  pass  along  a  crowded  street,  I 
note  the  faces  of  those  I  meet,  and  am  surprised 
to  see  so  few  that  tell  of  a  calm  and  happy  heart 
beneath  it.     I  see  traces  of  many  other  things : 
hard  lines  that  tell  of  avarice,  of  irritability  and 
bad  temper,  of  pride  and  vanity,  of  gay  indiffer- 
ence, of  lust  and  vice.     One  here  and  there  bears 
marks  of  thought  and  energy,  of  high  purpose  and 
strenuousness  ;  but  few  have  the  peaceful,  restful 
look  of  a  soul  that  is  tranquil  and  calm.     Surely  it 
cannot  be  the  will  of  God  that  such  burdens  should 
be  made  out  of  daily  work,  or  such  heavy  loads  be 
carried  by  anxious-minded  men,  when  they  might 
so  easily  be  set  at  liberty,  if  they  would  only  give 
God  their  burdens,  and  get,  in  exchange.  His  peace. 
There   is,  of  course,  a  whole  class  of  anxieties 
which  I  cannot  ask  God  to  carry  for  me  or  help 
me   in :   the    cares    that    I   needlessly   and   even 
rebelliously  make  for  myself ;  that  do  not  come  to 
me  from  Him  at  all,  but  are  manufactured  out  of 
my  own  pride  and  self-will ;  cares  that  I  persist  in 
carrying,  though  He  is  asking  me  to  let  them  drop. 
But  since  all  the  worries  of  life  have  to  do  either 
with  lawful  or  with  unlawful  things,  there  is  no 
need  for  my  heart  being  burdened  with  either  kind. 
If  my  anxieties  are  about  lawful  things,  my  Lord 
offers  to  relieve  me  by  carrying  them  for  me ;  and 
if  they  are  about  unlawful  things,  I  must,  for  my 


NOT  WORRY,   BUT  TRUST  5 

soul's  life,  lay  them  down  at  once;  and  if  I  am 
ever  in  doubt  to  which  of  these  two  classes  I  must 
refer  some  anxiety  that  is  pressing  me  hard,  the 
quickest  way  of  solving  the  doubt  will  be  to  take 
it  to  the  Lord  Himself  on  bended  knee.  There  is 
nothing  like  the  ordeal  of  honest  prayer  for  testing 
the  righteousness  of  earthly  solicitudes.  How 
often  would  that  ordeal  reveal  the  truth  that  a 
large  proportion  of  them  are  due  simply  to  pride, 
or  self-indulgence,  or  self-will ! 

These  questions  of  the  Master's  also  suggest  that 
a  large  number  of  troublesome  anxieties  arise,  not 
out  from  evils  of  my  own  maJcing,  but  from  evils  of 
my  own  imagining.  The  chief  things  that  darken 
the  outlook  are  things  that  never  happen !  Fear 
of  trouble  is  always  harder  to  bear  than  trouble 
itself.  For  real  trials  I  have  the  promise  of  my 
Father's  help.  For  my  own  dismal  forebodings 
He  makes  no  provision  at  all.  There  seems  to  be 
also  a  suggestion  here,  that  it  is  often  in  the  small 
tilings  of  life  that  I  need  most  my  Father's  care  ; 
and  that,  if  nothing  is  too  great  to  be  cast  upon 
His  love,  nothing  is  too  insignificatit  either. 
Nothing  that  troubles  the  heart  of  the  child  can 
be  a  trifle  to  the  heart  of  the  Father.  When  my 
Master  says,  "Your  heavenly  Father  knoweth 
that  ye  have  need  of  these  things,"  it  is  of  life's 
necessities,  not  of  its  luxuries,  that  He  is  speaking. 
I  can  live  without  the  luxuries,  and  be  completely 
happy  without  them,  yes,  and  safer  too  ;  for  out  of 


6  NOT  WORRY,   BUT  TRUST 

the  pleasant  warmth  of  the  fire  of  luxury  there 
often  creep  not  one,  but  dozens  of  deadly  serpents 
and  fasten  on  my  hand — pride,  avarice,  selfishness, 
and  many  more ;  but  bread  and  raiment  I  must 
have  if  I  am  to  live  at  all.  The  promise  is  limited 
to  what  my  Father  knows  I  really  need,  and  when 
He  withholds  the  other  things  I  ask,  I  am  sure  I 
do  not  really  need  them,  else  they  would  be  given. 

Dr.  Payson,  of  America,  gave  a  beautiful 
testimony  to  this  upon  his  dying  bed,  when  he 
said  :  "  Christians  might  save  themselves  much 
sorrow,  if  they  would  only  believe  what  they 
profess  to  believe,  that  God  can  make  them 
perfectly  happy  without  any  of  these  things  they 
think  essential  to  their  joy.  They  imagine  that  if 
such  and  such  a  blessing  were  taken  away,  they 
would  be  utterly  miserable  ;  whereas  God  can  make 
them  a  thousand  times  happier  without  it  than 
they  are.  He  has  been  depriving  me  of  one  thing 
after  another  all  my  life,  but  He  has  always  more 
than  supplied  its  place  ;  and  now,  when  I  am  lying 
here  a  helpless  cripple,  I  am  not  only  happier  than 
I  ever  was,  but  happier  than  I  ever  expected  to  be : 
and  I  would  have  saved  myself  much  sorrow  if  I 
had  only  believed  this  twenty  years  ago." 

My  whole  life,  to  its  latest  hour,  is  to  be  one  life 
of  trust ;  and  I  thank  God  that  He  who  has 
redeemed  me  is  not  my  sin-hearer  only,  but  my 
sorrow-hearer  and  care-hearer  too.  If  I  have 
trusted  Him  with  my  soul,  I  may  surely  trust  Him 


NOT   WORRY,   BUT   TRUST  7 

with  everything  else.  If  I  am  trusting  Him  for 
eternity,  I  may  sm^ely  trust  Him  for  time.  If  I 
trust  Him  for  my  everlasting  home,  I  may  surely 
trust  Him  for  my  journey  to  it.  But  the  misery  is 
that,  though  I  am  always  asking  Him  to  drive,  and 
telling  Him  that  He  alone  can  do  it,  I  all  the  time 
persist  in  seizing  the  reins  myself  !  It  is  strange 
and  sad  how  constantly  I  betray  my  unbelief.  My 
very  prayers  are  often  full  of  it.  I  look  up  and 
say,  "  My  Father  who  art  in  heaven,"  but  only 
because  the  "  Lord's  Prayer  "  begins  in  that  way, 
not  because  I  have  any  vividly  real  and  comforting 
sense  of  being  His  child  in  very  deed.  I  listen  to 
the  sweet  consolations  that  come  from  my  Master's 
lips,  but  the  echo  of  them  in  my  heart  is  wonder- 
fully poor  and  thin.  I  commit  my  way  to  Him  in 
beautiful  pious  phrases  that  would  befit  the  ripest 
saint,  and  immediately  proceed  to  take  my  own 
foolish  way  notwithstanding.  Need  I  wonder  that 
He  gives  me  only  a  partial  peace,  when  I  am  giving 
Him  only  a  partial  trust  ?  Need  I  wonder  that 
when  He  gets  from  me  only  a  half-confidence.  He 
gives  me  only  a  half -joy? 

Would  that  I  had  more  of  Martin  Luther's 
simple  faith,  who,  in  a  time  of  much  distress, 
looking  out  of  his  window,  and  seeing  a  blackbird 
sitting  on  a  bough  and  singing  its  very  best  in  the 
midst  of  pelting  rain,  said,  "  Why  cannot  I  too  sit 
still  and  sing,  and  let  God  tMiik  for  me  .^  " 


II 

CONFIDENCE   IN    PEAYER 

"  If  ye,  being  evil,  know  how  to  give  good  gifts  unto  your  children, 
how  much  more  shall  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven  give  good  things 
to  them  that  ask  Him?  " — Matthew  vii.  11. 

"  Which  of  you  shall  have  a  friend,  and  shall  goto  him  at  midnight, 
and  say  unto  him.  Friend,  lend  me  three  loaves ;  for  a  friend  of  mine 
in  his  journey  is  come  to  me,  and  I  have  nothing  to  set  before  him  ? 
And  he  from  within  shall  answer  and  say,  Trouble  me  not  ...  I 
cannot  rise  and  give  thee.  Though  he  will  not  rise  and  give  him, 
because  he  is  his  friend,  yet  because  of  his  importunity  he  will  rise 
and  give  him  as  many  as  he  needeth." — Luke  xi.  5-8. 

The  Master's  question  is  an  argument,  and  the 
argument  is  what  is  called  an  a  fortiori  one. 
It  is  from  the  less  to  the  greater;  from  a  poor 
earthly  love  to  a  rich  heavenly  one ;  from  a  love 
that,  at  the  best,  is  ignorant,  to  one  that  is 
altogether  wise ;  from  an  imperfect  to  a  perfect 
compassion.  The  love  of  the  best  of  fathers 
here  is  only  a  poor  reflection  of  the  love  of  the 
Father  who  is  in  heaven,  but  it  is  a  reflection  of 
it  for  all  that.     "  If  you  can  love  your  children  so, 


CONFIDENCE  IN  PRAYER  9 

must  not  He  who  implanted  that  love  in  you  feel 
the  same  ?  If  you,  being  evil,  can  do  that,  shall 
not  He  who  is  infinitely  good  do  as  much,  and 
even  more  ?  "  So  then  the  foundation  on  which 
Christ  rests  all  His  teaching  about  prayer  is  the 
real  Fatherliness  of  that  great  heart  in  heaven  to 
which  I  make  appeal.  It  was  always  to  a  Father 
that  He  looked  up.  The  Fatherhood  of  God  was 
to  Him  the  most  blessed  and  most  sustaining  of 
all  thoughts.  The  word  "Father"  was  ever  on 
His  lips.  He  scarcely  ever  spoke  either  of  God  or 
to  God  in  any  other  way :  "  I  thank  Thee,  Father," 
"even  so,  Father,"  "Abba,  Father,"  "Father, 
glorify  Thy  name,"  "Holy  Father,"  "Righteous 
Father."  That  was  the  habitual  tone  of  prayer  in 
Him  ;  and  that  was  the  secret  of  His  perfect  calm 
and  trust. 

Most  of  the  difficulties  often  felt  regarding 
prayer  come  from  not  thinking  about  God  as 
the  Master  did ;  from  not  realising  the  tender 
love  of  His  Fatherly  heart  and  the  infinite  power 
of  His  Fatherly  hand.  If  I  think  of  Him  simply 
as  a  Ruler  or  a  Judge,  I  will  have  little  confidence 
in  prayer  and  little  joy :  but  that  one  word 
"Father"  gives  me  both  reality  and  gladness  in 
my  prayer-intercourse  with  Him.  Just  because 
He  is  a  Father^  I  can  be  sure  He  will  listen 
sympathetically  to  my  cry  of  need.  Just  because 
He  is  a  wise  Fathe7\  I  can  trust  Him  to  answer 
the  cry  in  the  wisest  way.     Just  because  He  is  a 


10  CONFIDENCE  IN  PRAYER 

perfect  Father,  I  can  believe  that  He  must  have  the 
best  of  reasons  for  sometimes  refusing  my  requests. 
I  can  say  ''  Thy  will  be  done,"  not  merely  because 
it  is  an  Oimiipotent  will  which  I  cannot  resist, 
nor  even  because  it  is  a  lioly  will  which  I  ought  to 
acquiesce  in  however  hard,  but  because  it  is  a 
Father's  will,  the  will  of  one  whose  only  aim  it  is 
to  make  His  children  pure,  as  the  first  thing,  and 
happy,  as  the  next.  When  I  know  the  Father  as 
Christ  did,  I  shall  pray  as  He  did,  and  get  my 
prayers  answered  too,  as  His  always  were.  The 
Apostle  John  says :  "I  write  unto  you,  little 
children,  because  ye  have  known  the  Father. '^  It 
is  only  by  being  as  a  "  little  child,"  simple-hearted, 
full  of  faith,  that  I  can  know  the  Father  well 
enough  to  "  assure  my  heart  before  Him,"  when  I 
pray. 

Whatever  may  be  said  about  my  general 
Christian  life,  must  I  not  confess  with  shame 
that  this  must  be  said,  that  it  is  far  too  little  a  life 
of  prayer  ?  The  wonderiul 2yrivilege  of  prayer  I  do 
not  sufficiently  recognise ;  the  comforting  help  of 
prayer  I  do  not  sufficiently  enjoy.  I  would  be  a 
holier  and  a  happier  Christian  if  I  had  more  of 
what  an  African  convert  called  "  the  gift  of  the 
knees."  When  I  think  of  it,  it  is  really  a  mar- 
vellous thing  that  sinful  men  should  be  allowed  to 
speak  to  the  High  and  Holy  One  ;  that  all,  with- 
out exception,  may  tread  the  open  pathway  to  a 
"throne    of   grace."     It    is    only  my  familiarity 


CONFIDENCE  IN  PRAYER  11 

with  this  truth  that  bhnds  me  to  the  wonder  of  it. 
If  there  had  been  only  one  spot  on  earth  where 
God  and  man  could  meet,  what  thousands  of 
sufferers  and  sorrowers  would  be  always  setting 
out  on  pilgrimage  to  reach  it !  What  willing 
expenditure  of  time  and  wealth  there  would  be  to 
get  to  it  even  for  a  day  !  If  there  were  only  one  day 
in  each  year  on  which,  at  that  one  spot,  the  God  of 
heaven  gave  audience  to  weary  men ;  or  if,  like 
Bethesda's  pool,  it  were  a  place  where  only  the 
first  comer  could  carry  a  blessing  away,  what 
wistful  waiting  round  it  there  would  be  !  what 
feverish  haste  to  be  in  time!  what  hot  contention 
for  the  nearest  place !  How  infinitely  precious 
health  and  wealth  would  be,  as  giving  the  best 
chance  of  reaching  that  one  spot !  What  terrible 
misfortunes  feebleness  and  poverty  would  be,  as 
precluding  any  hope  of  getting  there  at  all ! 

But  what  is  the  actual  fact  ?  There  is  no  such 
solitary  sacred  spot,  no  such  special  hour.  The 
whole  world  is  His  audience-chamber ;  His  ear  is 
never  shut :  and  yet  how  few  of  the  world's 
millions  do  really  ask  Him  for  anything !  How 
much  that  passes  for  prayer  is  only  like  the 
reciting  of  a  charm !  how  much  is  merely 
mechanical  duty !  how  few  even  of  those  who 
really  pray,  pray  to  Him  as  to  a  Father !  Surely 
He  may  complain  of  7?ze,  that  I  who  profess  to 
know  him  so  well,  yet  speak  to  him  so  seldom 
and  ask  of  Him  so  little.     For  His  love  will  give 


12  CONFIDENCE  IN  PRAYER 

me  not  only  what  I  ask,  but  far  beyond  it  too. 
Even  a  deep  earthly  love  grudges  nothing  :  but 
the  love  of  my  Father  in  heaven,  soaring  infinitely 
higher  and  sinking  infinitely  deeper  than  the  most 
self-sacrificing  human  love  ever  did,  has  a  "  length 
and  breadth  and  depth  and  height "  that  passes 
knowledge.  It  is  ready  to  do  for  me  not  only 
what  I  ask,  but  ''  exceeding  abundantly  above  all 
I  can  ask  or  think."  Oh,  the  marvel  of  it !  How 
much  can  I  find  it  in  my  heart  to  ash  in  some 
great  stress  of  difliculty  or  of  pain?  how  much 
can  I  ask  for  others  dear  to  me  as  well  as  for 
myself  ?  Can  it  be  that  God  is  able  to  give  me 
not  only  all  that,  but  "  ahove^^  all  that, 
^^  abundantly  above"  it,  ^^  exceeding  abundantly 
above"  it  all?  And  how  much  can  I  tliink  of  as 
possible  for  my  heart  to  receive?  Can  it  be 
that  exceeding  abundantly  above  my  thoughts 
as  well  as  above  my  prayers  He  is  ready 
to  bless  me  every  day  ?  Then  let  me  never  grieve 
or  dishonour  such  a  Father  by  doubting  His  love 
or  distrusting  His  power. 

If  I  could  somehow  gather  up  and  measure  all 
the  golden  sunlight  that  is  falling  silently  over  the 
world  to-day,  falling  on  the  wastes  of  desert  sands, 
scattered  over  the  desolation  of  northern  ice, 
flashing  from  the  waves  of  a  hundred  seas,  running 
about  the  mountains,  spreading  over  the  plains, 
sending  innumerable  rays  into  secret  places,  filling 
the  cup  of  every  flower,  shining  down  the  sides  of 


CONFliDENCE  IN  PRAYER  13 

every  blade  of  grass,  resting  in  beautiful  humility 
on  the  unloveliest  things,  the  sticks  and  straws 
and  dust  of  the  street,  and  even  the  putrefaction 
of  death,  gilding  the  thatch  of  the  cottage,  hght- 
ing  up  the  prisoner  in  his  lonely  cell,  making  a 
rainbow  out  of  every  passing  shower,  giving  itself 
without  stint  in  its  grand  abundance  everywhere — 
if  I  could  somehow  gather  all  this  up,  and  measure 
it,  and  tell  how  great  it  is,  then  perhaps  I  might 
be  able,  but  not  till  then,  to  understand  the 
exuberant  riches  of  love  that  are  waiting  for  me 
to  draw  upon  in  my  Father's  heart  and  the 
infinity  of  the  blessings  that  are  in  my  Father's 
hand,  ready  to  fall  into  mine,  when  I  ask  Him  to 
send  them  down. 

And  I  must  be  asking  every  hour.  In  constant 
prayerfulness  my  only  safety  lies.  Life  is  full  of 
surprises ;  I  meet  temptation  in  the  most  unlikely 
places.  I  have  sometimes  sudden  perplexities  of 
conscience  about  right  and  wrong.  I  am  uncertain 
how  to  say  just  the  right  thing,  or  how  to  act  just 
in  the  right  way.  There  is  often  no  time  for  de- 
liberation. I  must  act  and  speak  at  once,  where  a 
mistake  may  have  far  more  serious  issues  than  I 
know.  My  only  resource,  then,  must  be  a  child's 
cry  for  a  Father's  help,  a  lifting  up  of  my  heart  to 
Him  in  the  very  moment  of  the  difficulty,  with  a 
prayer  for  light  and  strength.  Good  Nehemiah 
could  not  only  "  pray  to  the  God  of  heaven  " 
secretly,  but  get  an  answer  to  his  prayer  in  that 


14  CONFIDENCE  IN  PRAYER 

short  interval  that  separated  his  hearing  of  the 
king's  question  from  his  necessarily  immediate 
reply.  Prayer  will  cut  many  a  knot  that  my  own 
hands  cannot  untie  :  and  the  quickest  way  to  the 
blessing  I  am  seeking  will  always  be  round  by  the 
throne  of  grace.  For  the  true  idea  of  prayer  is  not 
simply  petitioning,  it  is  rather  consulting  God. 
Often  I  need  more  than  a  presenting  of  request. 
I  need  a  consultation  with  my  Father  in  heaven — 
telling  Him  frankly  how  I  feel,  and  asking  Him  to 
tell  me  how  He  feels  about  it  too.  The  effect  of 
such  a  consultation  may  be  to  encourage  me  to  pray 
for  that  special  thing  with  more  assurance  than 
ever ;  or  it  may  be  to  make  me  cease  from  asking  it 
because  I  am  convinced  it  is  not  according  to  His 
highest  will  for  me.  But  either  way  the  object  of 
the  consultation  has  been  gained.  In  either  case  I 
get  what  an  old  Greek  writer  calls  "  the  silence  of 
the  soul" — that  holy  silence  that  ceases  from 
urging  the  will  of  the  flesh,  because  it  worships 
only  the  sweet  will  of  God. 

Do  I  feel  as  if  that  were  a  poor  result  ?  Would 
I  wish  for  more  ?  Let  me  remember  that,  in  ask- 
ing my  Father  to  do  His  will  for  me,  I  am  only 
asking  Him  to  give  me  what  is  really  the  highest 
blessing  to  myself. 

"He  knows,  and  loves,  and  cares; 
Nothing  that  truth  can.  dim  : 
He  gives  His  very  best  to  those 
That  leave  the  choice  to  Him." 


CONFIDENCE  IN  PRAYER  15 

And  if  the  Master's  question  about  the  "  friend  at 
midnight "  seems  to  contradict  this  teaching,  let 
me  remember  that  He  did  not  make  that  churlish 
householder  a  type  of  God,  or  mean  to  say 
that  God,  selfishly  unwilling  to  be  disturbed  by 
a  cry  of  need,  could  yet  be  persuaded  by  mere 
ceaseless  importunity.  The  contrast^  not  the 
similarity,  was  the  point  of  His  parable.  "If 
the  persistent  knocking  of  a  needy  friend  can 
prevail  even  with  one  who  is  both  angry  and 
annoyed,  how  much  more  will  the  filial  confidence 
of  a  needy  child  be  responded  to  by  a  loving 
Father?  Therefore  "ask,  and  ye  shall  receive — 
knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  unto  you." 


Ill 

SUBMISSION   IN   PEAYER 

"  What  man  is  there  of  you,  whom  if  his  son  ask  bread,  will  he  give 
him  a  stone?  or  if  he  ask  a  fish, will  he  give  him  a  serpent?" — 
Matthew  vii.  9, 10. 

These  questions  are  in  the  same  line  as  the  last, 
but  they  suggest  an  additional  and  most  profitable 
thought.  The  Master  supposes  that  a  child  will 
ask  only  for  what  is  good,  and  says  that,  in  that 
case,  no  loving  father  would  mock  his  confiding 
little  one  by  offering  him  what  would  sting  or  kill. 
But  I  can  turn  his  question  round  another  way, 
still  keeping  to  its  essential  meaning,  and  put  it 
thus:  "if  his  son  asks  a  stone,  iynagining  it 
to  be  bread,  or  a  serpent,  supposing  it  to  be  a 
wholesome  fish,  will  he  grant  a  request  so  foolish 
and  so  ignorant  as  that  ?  "  Thus  I  am  led  to  the 
larger  teaching  of  my  Lord,  which  is,  that  my 
loving  Father  will  give  me  only  what  He  knows  is 
really  good,  that  I  must  let  Him  deal  with  my 
prayers  in  His  own  wise  way,  and,  for  my  good,  say 

16 


SUBMISSION  IN  PRAYER  17 

''  No,"  to  some  of  them ;  and,  looking  back  to-day 
upon  my  past  experiences,  must  I  not  confess  that 
the  granting  of  some  of  my  impassioned  and  eager 
prayers  would  have  been  the  cruellest  thing  my 
God  could  have  done  to  me  ? 

It  is  not  wonderful  that  I  should  need  a  Father's 
refusals  as  well  as  a  Father's  gifts.  The  heart 
always  gives  a  bias  to  the  judgment ;  and  since  it 
is  my  own  judgment  of  what  is  good  that  guides 
me  in  any  definite  request,  I  necessarily  make 
many  mistakes  in  prayer,  so  that  multitudes  of 
things  which  my  unwisdom  seeks,  the  wiser  love 
of  my  Father  denies.  *'  I  beseech  Thee,  show  me 
Thy  glory,"  said  Moses  to  Grod.  "  You  are  asking 
for  death,"  was  God's  reply,  *'for  no  man  can 
see  My  face  and  live."  "  Take  away  my  life," 
said  the  petulant  Elijah,  depressed  and  weary, 
"  for  it  is  better  for  me  to  die  than  to  live." 
But  had  that  prayer  been  granted,  what 
would  have  become  of  his  glorious  translation  in 
the  chariot  of  fire,  which  was  surely  a  far  more 
triumphant  close  to  such  a  noble  life  as  his  than 
an  unseen  death  in  the  wilderness  would  have 
been  ?  "  Grant  that  these  my  two  sons  may  sit, 
the  one  on  Thy  right  hand  and  the  other  on  Thy 
left,  in  Thy  kingdom,"  was  the  prayer  of  the 
mother  of  James  and  John.  What  a  depth  of 
meaning  was  in  the  Master's  gentle  reply,  "  Ye 
know  not  what  ye  ask"  !  I  look  at  His  own  picture 
of  the  King  in  His  kingdom,  with  the  sheep  on  the 

3 


18  SUBMISSION  IN   PRAYER 

right  hand  and  the  goats  on  the  left,  and  think 
what  the  granting  of  that  petition  would  have 
been  !  It  is  no  proof  of  our  being  special  favourites 
of  God  that  all  our  desires  are  given.  Israel  cried 
for  flesh,  and  "He  gave  them  their  request  "  ;  but 
it  was  destruction  to  them  instead  of  life. 

What  impassioned  prayers  for  a  renewed  lease 
of  life  have  been  uttered  in  sick-rooms,  and  even 
on  sick-beds,  by  those  who  did  recover,  contrary  to 
all  hope,  but  lived  only  to  ruin  themselves  by  sin  ! 
How  many  a  father  and  mother  have  bent  over 
the  couch  where  a  loved  child  was  lying  at  the 
point  of  death,  and  prayed,  with  unsubmissive, 
frantic  eagerness,  to  have  that  young  life  spared ; 
only  to  find  that  the  child,  given  back  to  them  as 
if  by  miracle,  brought  down  their  grey  hairs  with 
sorrow  to  the  grave,  leaving  them  the  bitter  wail, 
"  Would  God  that  you  had  died,  or  that  we  had 
died  instead  of  you,  twenty  years  ago  !  " 

It  is  possible  to  ask  even  for  spiritual  blessings 
which  it  would  be  hurtful  to  receive  at  once.  It 
is  possible  to  ask  for  more  grace,  only  to  increase  a 
pride  of  grace.  Pride  is  a  most  subtle  traitor ; 
and  what  are  really  cravings  of  "the  flesh"  may 
sometimes  be  mistaken  for  yearnings  of  "the 
Spirit."  The  "Shibboleth"  of  Gilead  and  the 
"  Sibboleth  "  of  Ephraim  are  so  much  alike  that 
only  an  experienced  ear  can  detect  the  difference 
between  them  ;  and  not  only  so,  but  God  may 
often  withhold  a  blessing  sought,  till  the  heart  has 


SUBMISSION  IN  PRAYER  19 

first  been  emptied  of  all  self-glory,  and  made 
humble  enough  to  receive  with  safety  so  great  a 
gift.  "  Did  you  get  low  enough  to  be  blessed?" 
was  the  question  once  asked  by  a  saintly  man, 
when  speaking  to  some  who  had  gathered  to  pray 
for  a  revival  in  the  Church.  ^^  Loio  enough  to  he 
blessed  " — that  is  what  God  is  often  waiting  for, 
before  an  answer  to  my  prayers  can  come.  "  Lord, 
give  me  loftier  views  of  Christ,"  is  the  cry  of  some 
eager  heart ;  and  God  says,  "  Yes,  I  will ;  but  first 
you  must  have  deeper  and  more  humbling  views  of 
yourself."  "  Lord,  use  me  to  do  great  things  for 
Thee."  "Yes,  but  are  you  completely  willing  to 
be  only  the  tool,  and  not  the  hand  that  moves  it  ?  " 
"  Lord,  I  would  fain  be  full  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
and  of  power ;  wilt  Thou  make  me  a  brilliant  lamp, 
giving  clear  and  steady  light?"  "Yes,  but  I 
must  first  empty  you  of  all  your  own  oil,  and  so 
make  room  for  that  fulness  of  the  Spirit  to  get  in." 
Then,  too,  the  Lord  may  deny  me  the  thing 
that  I  imagine  would  greatly  increase  my  useful- 
ness, not  only  because  I  am  not  ready  enough  to 
receive  it,  but  because  He  has  in  view  some  ivliolhj 
different  and  better  way  of  using  me,  of  which  I 
know  nothing  yet.  When  Paul  prayed  earnestly 
and  insistently  for  the  removal  of  the  afiliction 
which  he  called  a  "  thorn  in  his  flesh,"  it  was  not 
because  its  rankling  pain  affected  his  personal 
comfort,  but  because  it  hindered  his  power  for 
serving  the  Master.    Its  removal,  therefore,  seemed 


20  SUBMISSION  IN  PRAYER 

a  thing  for  which  he  could  legitimately  pray  ;  and 
he  had  no  hesitation  in  pressing  the  case,  "  I 
besought  the  Lord  thrice  that  it  might  depart  from 
me."  But  the  thorn  was  not  removed.  His 
heart's  desire  was  granted  in  a  better  way.  The 
Lord  said  to  him  "  My  grace  is  sufficient  " — you 
need  nothing  more — "  My  strength  is  made  perfect 
in  weahiess.^^  There  are  two  ways  of  helping  a 
man  whose  weakness  cannot  bear  the  load  he  has 
to  carry :  one  is,  to  diminish  the  burden ;  the 
other  is,  to  strengthen  the  man.  Paul's  way 
would  have  been  the  first  of  these.  His  Master's 
kinder  and  wiser  way  was  the  second.  His  bodily 
infirmity  was  to  be  left  as  it  was  ;  but  it  would  no 
longer  be  felt  to  be  an  impediment  to  his  success, 
however  it  might  still  be  a  pain :  for  the  power  of 
Christ  would  so  rest  upon  him  and  increase,  that 
his  Master  would  be  more  glorified  in  him  than 
ever  before. 

How  many  things  there  may  be  in  my  life  too 
of  which  I  would  fain  be  quit,  that  I  might  better 
serve  my  Lord  !  How  often  I  have  said,  "  Were 
I  only  free  of  this  impediment  or  that,  how  much 
more  effectively  I  could  work  for  Him  !  Were  I  only 
possessed  of  larger  leisure,  were  I  only  in  better 
health,  were  I  stronger  physically  to  go  out  on 
works  of  mercy,  had  I  only  a  more  persuasive 
tongue,  were  I  only  more  free  from  the  worries  of 
my  temporal  concerns  ;  or,  were  I  only  out  of  the 
atmosphere  of  utter  worldliness  which  I  am  daily 


SUBMISSION  IN  PRAYER  21 

compelled  to  breathe,  free  from  that  perpetual  fire 
of  sneers  which  burns  me  whenever  I  try  to  be 
true  to  conscience  and  to  God,  how  gladly  and 
how  effectively  I  would  then  work  for  Him."  Yes, 
so  I  have  imagined  the  case.  That  is  just  how 
Paul  felt  when  he  pictured  to  himself  the  vigour 
and  the  joy  of  a  thornless  life.  And  to  me  there- 
fore comes  the  same  answer  from  my  Master's  lips, 
"  My  grace  is  the  only  thing  you  need ;  that  grace 
will  come  to  you  sufficient  for  every  hour  ;  and 
when  you  carry  the  riches  of  heaven  in  a  poor 
earthen  vessel,  all  the  more  clearly  will  it  be  seen 
that  the  excellency  of  the  power  is  of  God  and  not 
of  you."  In  this  way,  as  in  so  many  others,  I 
learn  to  subscribe  my  own  Amen  to  the  words — 

*'  Good  when  He  gives,  supremely  good ; 
But  good  when  He  denies : 
Ev'n  crosses  from  His  sovereign  hand 
Are  blessings  in  disguise." 

Can  I  not  remember  to-day  a  time,  now  perhaps 
far  in  the  distance  behind,  when  I  prayed  intensely 
for  the  passing  away  of  some  great  trial  that 
threatened  to  darken  all  my  life  ?  I  prayed,  not 
selfishly  or  for  my  own  comfort,  but  for  the  greater 
glory  of  God  by  me.  I  knew  that  it  could  be  over- 
ruled to  my  oivn  personal  sanctificatio7i,  if  it  came ; 
but  I  could  not  see  how  it  could  possibly  be  made 
a  help  to  me  in  serving  Christ :  and  so,  for  His 
sake,  I  prayed  that  it  might  pass.     But  it  did  not 


22  SUBMISSION  IN  PRAYER 

pass.  I  had  to  drink  the  bitter  cup.  There  was 
no  escape.  I  drank  it  suhmissively — that  was  all 
I  could  do.  I  could  not  take  it  joyfully.  And  yet 
I  have  lived  to  see  that  even  for  my  power  to  serve, 
my  Master's  way  was  infinitely  better  than  my 
own  way  would  have  been.  Ah  !  my  wise  and 
loving  Father  knew  that  when  I  thought  I  was 
asking  bread,  I  was  asking  only  a  stone,  and  He 
was  kinder  to  me  than  my  prayers. 

Let  me  listen,  then,  as  I  hear  an  experienced 
disciple  echoing  most  exactly  the  voice  of  the 
Master  Himself,  "  In  everything  by  prayer  and 
supplication  let  your  requests  be  made  known  unto 
God,  and  the  'peace  of  God  that  passeth  all  iindej'- 
standing  shall  keep  your  hearts  and  minds  through 
Christ  Jesus."  It  is  as  if  he  said  :  "  You  have  the 
largest  liberty  in  prayer,  ask  what  you  will — and 
yet  I  do  not  say  to  you  that  all  your  requests  will 
be  granted  you  :  this  I  say,  that  you  will  get  some- 
thing even  better  still,  your  prayer  of  trust  will 
at  least  calm  the  tumult  in  your  breast.  It  will 
make  you  of  one  mind  with  your  Father  in  heaven 
about  the  thing  that  troubles  you.  It  will  bring 
you  into  quiet  rest,  the  rest  of  an  absolute  con- 
fidence in  His  perfect  love.  That  is  really  the 
best  thing  even  God  can  give  ;  and,  whatever  else 
He  refuses,  of  this  gift  you  may  be  sure." 


IV 
CONSPICUOUS    DISCIPLESHIP 


"  Is  a  candle  brought  to  be  put  under  a  bushel  or  under  a  bed  ?  a-nd 
not  to  be  set  on  a  candlestick  ?  " — Mark  iv.  21. 


I  AM,  first  of  all,  to  be  a  light-receiver,  and  then  a 
light -diff user.  I  cannot  shine  for  Christ  until  He 
shines  into  me ;  but  no  sooner  do  I  receive  His 
divine  illumination  myself  than  I  am  expected  to 
illuminate  the  darkness  round  about  me.  My  dis- 
cipleship  is  to  be  real,  that  is  the  first  thing — and 
visible,  that  is  the  second.  "Ye  are  the  light  of 
the  world,"  said  the  Master  to  His  Disciples.  God's 
plan  is  to  save  the  world  by  human  agency.  It 
might  have  been  otherwise.  He  might  have 
entrusted  to  no  other  hands  but  Christ's  the 
bearing  of  His  message  of  Life,  and  He  might 
have  continued  Christ's  personal  presence  in  the 
world  till  the  work  was  done.  Or  He  might  have 
given  it  into  angelic  hands,  as  the  only  created 
hands  fit  for  a  work  so  great.     But  no  angel  was 

23 


24  CONSPICUOUS  DISCIPLESHIP 

ever  sent  to  preach  the  gospel  to  a  sinner.  It  is  to 
men,  themselves  redeemed,  that  the  work  is  given 
of  preaching,  by  lip  and  life,  redemption  to  the  lost. 
By  man  came  death,  and  by  man  must  come  the 
resurrection  of  the  dead.  It  is  high  honour  to  be 
called  to  continue  in  the  world  the  shining  that 
Christ  began.  It  is  honour,  blessedness,  respon- 
sibility all  in  one. 

Let  me  remember,  in  my  own  Christian  life, 
that  the  sole  end  for  which  a  candle  is  lit  is  to 
give  light  to  those  that  would  be  in  darkness 
without  it ;  for,  too  many  Christians  seem  to 
think  that  their  own  personal  life  is  the  only  thing 
they  need  to  care  about.  To  preserve  their  own 
light  is  all  they  seek  :  and  the  natural  consequence 
is  that  thus  safe-guarding  the  light  under  a  bushel, 
their  candle  grows  dimmer  gradually,  till  it  dies 
from  want  of  air.  A  self-included  discipleship  is 
a  very  useless  one  ;  but  the  danger  of  it  is  that  it 
will  soon  cease  to  be  a  discipleship  at  all.  One 
of  the  old  prophets  spoke  of  the  coming  of  a 
day  when  a  man  should  '■^  no  more  teach  his 
brother,  saying,  '  Know  the  Lord,'  for  all  shall 
know  Him  from  the  least  to  the  greatest."  Surely 
that  expression  "  ?io  more  "  is  equivalent  to  saying 
that  that  is  what  every  Christian  is  expected  to  he 
doing  now.  Yet,  practically,  most  Christians  seem 
to  live  as  if  that  day  had  already  come !  Does 
not  this  explain  to  me  the  deadness  of  the 
Church,  as  well   as   the   darkness  of   the  world? 


CONSPICUOUS  DISCIPLESHIP  25 

How  many  a  once-illuminated  soul  has  to  admit 
that  "its  lamp  has  gone  out  "  !  Astronomers  tell 
us  of  worlds  that  have  lost  their  fires.  They 
burned  brightly  once.  Now  they  are  cold  and 
dark.  Their  very  existence  can  only  be  known 
by  a  mathematical  computation ;  for  they  are  in- 
visible to  the  eye.  Many  a  Christian  too  has  lost 
his  light-giving  power;  and  none  but  the  Great 
Astronomer  who  numbereth  the  stars,  can  see  him 
in  His  firmament  at  all.  It  was  a  solemn  word 
my  Master  spoke  when  He  said,  "From  him  that 
hath  not  shall  be  taken  away  that  which  he 
hath,"  for  one  of  the  penalties  of  refusing  service 
is  to  be  denied  opportunities  for  service  after- 
wards. 

It  is  strongly  suggested  by  my  Lord's  question 
that  the  darkness  which  God  means  each  en- 
lightened soul  to  illuminate  is  the  darkness 
immediately  surrounding  itself.  He  places  His 
candlesticks  just  where  He  means  His  candles 
to  shine.  With  the  sphere  of  my  work  as  a  light- 
giver  I  have  nothing  to  do.  God  arranges  that. 
My  business  is  simply  to  shine  where  I  am.  The 
light  is  needed  everywhere  ;  in  the  palace  as  much 
as  in  the  hovel,  in  the  homes  of  the  rich  as  well 
as  in  the  cottages  of  the  poor,  in  schools  of  the 
cultured  as  well  as  where  ignorance  is  dense. 
Thank  God,  He  has  lighted  candles  in  all  sorts 
of  positions,  both  lofty  and  low :  and  where  each 
is,  there  He  means  it  to  shine,  illuminating  the 


26  CONSPICUOUS  DISCIPLESHIP 

darkness  round  itself.  The  glowworm  that  burns 
its  feeble  lamp  among  the  grass  is  doing  God's  will 
as  truly  as  the  star  that  hangs  its  lantern  in  the 
sky :  and  he  whose  holy,  sweet,  consistent  life 
makes  him  the  light  of  his  own  humble  home  is 
doing  there  a  work  of  which  an  angel  might  be 
proud,  in  which  the  loftiest  of  seraphim  would 
count  it  an  honour  to  be  employed.  The  light 
that  burns  at  the  Goodwin  Sands  is  not  seen  at 
Land's  End — and  does  not  need  to  be;  but  it 
serves  its  own  purpose  where  it  is,  I  need  not 
complain  because  my  light  is  so  feeble  that  it 
cannot  send  its  radiance  to  Africa  or  China  or 
Japan.  To  light  a  much  smaller  area  than  that 
is  all  that  may  be  required  of  me  to  my  dying  day. 
I  have  to  make  it  my  business  to  be  steady  in  such 
shining  as  my  Master  calls  me  to,  and  leave  the 
rest  to  Him.  If  He  wants  me  some  day  to  en- 
lighten Africa,  He  will  have  a  candlestick  ready 
there  to  set  me  on. 

It  seems  further  suggested  here  that  this  work 
of  enlightening  the  world's  darkness  is  easy  work — 
to  this  extent,  at  least,  that  it  requires  no  effort 
for  a  lighted  lamp  to  shine.  All  that  is  needed  is 
room  for  its  beams  to  spread.  ^'' Let  your  light 
shine,"  says  the  Master.  It  will  shine  if  you  only 
let  it  shine.  Keep  it  trimmed,  and  let  it  shine — 
remove  obstructions  from  before  it,  and  let  it 
shine.  No  matter,  therefore,  what  the  candle- 
stick may  be  that  holds  the  light :   it  may  be  a 


CONSPICUOUS  DISCIPLESHIP  27 

very  lofty  one  or  very  low  ;  it  may  be  a  very 
splendid  one,  or  only  of  coarsest  and  commonest 
make ;  but  be  it  of  brass  or  earthenware,  of 
silver  or  of  gold,  that  makes  no  difference  to  the 
light.  A  candle  will  not  shine  any  better  in  a 
gold  candlestick  than  in  one  of  tin.  If  my  light 
burns  clear,  it  will  shine  with  equal  effect  whether 
I  am  a  Daniel  in  the  palace  or  only  a  Mordecai  at 
the  gate. 

Yet  let  me  remember  that  the  hindling  of  the 
light  is  only  part  of  the  work  that  needs  to  be 
done.  The  other  part  is  the  sustaining  and 
nourishing  of  the  light  when  kindled :  and  if  the 
first  part  is  God's,  the  second  part  is  mine.  The 
light  that  shines  openly  has  to  be  nourished 
secretly  :  for  it  is  by  a  secret  process,  a  process 
which  escapes  the  eye,  that  the  flame  draws  up 
from  the  enclosing  fat  the  fuel  that  feeds  its  life. 
The  process  is  continuous,  but  it  is  secret  all  the 
time.  If  my  light  is  to  shine  with  steady  lustre, 
glorifying  Him  who  has  enkindled  it,  it  must  be 
fed  continuously  out  of  the  fulness  of  Christ. 
Much  secret  fellowship  with  God,  much  prayer- 
ful intercourse  with  Him,  communication  uninter- 
rupted between  my  soul  and  heaven — nothing 
else  than  this  will  maintain  my  light,  even  though 
Christ  Himself  has  kindled  it.  If  the  world  ceases 
to  know  me  as  a  bright  disciple,  I  may  depend 
upon  it  that  the  reason  is  that  my  private  inter- 
course with  Christ  has   been  interrupted,  or  has 


28  CONSPICUOUS  DISCIPLESHIP 

come  to  an  end.  To  live  U2oon  Christ  in  secret  is 
the  only  way  to  live  for  Christ  in  public.  It 
is  only  in  ''the  secret  place  of  the  Most  High" 
that  1  can  gain  that  fulness  of  grace  which  will 
keep  my  candle  burning  steady  and  clear.  I  must 
watch,  therefore,  lest  by  indolence,  or  negligence, 
or  worldliness,  my  prayer-life  become  a  fickle 
and  inconstant  thing,  and  so  my  candle  burn  too 
low  to  be  of  any  use.  I  need  to  watch,  too,  lest  I 
allow  obstacles  to  get  in  the  way  of  its  light.  The 
world  cannot  quench  the  flame  ;  but  I  myself  may 
hide  it.  False  shame  may  hide  it.  Conformity  to 
the  fashion  of  the  day  may  hide  it.  The  fear  of 
man  may  hide  it.  If  I  am  to  do  all  that  my  Lord 
expects  me  to  do  as  a  light  of  the  world,  I  must 
be  more  consistent  in  my  personal  life  and  more 
bold  in  confessing  Him  before  men.  It  must  never 
be  sufficient  for  me  that  my  discipleship  is  known  to 
Him.  He  wants  it  to  be  known  "  to  all  men"  too. 
My  Father  in  heaven  is  not  to  be  the  only  one 
that  sees  my  good  works.  He  cannot  be  "  glori- 
fied" unless  men  see  them  also.  Let  me  watch 
against  these  hindrances  to  my  shining,  the 
worldliness,  the  fear,  the  shame,  the  false  reserve 
that  so  often  mar  the  testimony  of  my  life,  and 
seal  my  lips  as  well,  keeping  me  silent  when  I 
ought  to  speak. 

This  question  of  my  Master's  may  well  go 
keenly  home  to  my  conscience  when  I  ask  my- 
self   honestly,    "What    man    has    ever    felt   the 


CONSPICUOUS  DISCIPLESHIP  29 

gracious  influence  of  Christ,  from  his  intercourse 
with  me  ?  What  unconverted  friend  have  my 
character  or  words  ever  impressed  ?  What  sinful 
one  have  I  ever  sought  to  save  ?  Men  have  gone 
to  a  lost  eternity  from  my  very  door,  men  whom  I 
recognised  every  day  in  the  street,  and  I  never 
warned  or  expostulated  with  them,  because  a 
cowardly  reticence  or  a  false  propriety  kept  me 
dumb.  Friends,  dear  and  loved,  have  lived  in 
close  intimacy  with  me  under  my  roof,  and  have 
now  gone  far  from  me  to  distant  lands,  or  have 
crossed  the  boundary  from  which  there  is  no 
return;  and  I  never  opened  my  heart  to  them 
or  got  them  to  open  their  hearts  to  me  on  the 
great  matters  of  eternal  importance  to  us  both." 
I  may  well  be  ashamed  to  look  my  Master  in  the 
face  as  I  tell  Him  this. 

How  shall  I  repair  the  wrong  ?  How  shall  I 
become  more  truly  a  light  to  the  darkened  at  my 
side  ?  I  need  for  this  a  closer  fellowship  of  spirit 
with  Christ  Himself.  I  need  to  talk  with  Him  and 
have  Him  talk  to  me  as  He  did  to  the  disciples  on 
the  Emmaus  road,  who  said,  "Did  not  our  hearts 
hum  witliin  us  as  we  listened  to  His  voice?  "  Then, 
but  only  then,  will  I  myself  be  "a  hurning  and  a 
shining  light."  I  must  know  Him  better,  love 
Him  more,  be  more  concerned  for  His  glory,  more 
thoroughly  in  touch  with  Him  as  to  the  great  pur- 
pose of  my  redeemed  life,  which  is,  to  be  a  witness 
everywhere  to  Him  who  has  redeemed  me.     Then 


30  CONSPICUOUS  DISCIPLESHIP 

I  shall  shine  for  Him,  and  my  light   shall  bear 
witness  to  His. 

This  shining  will  cost  me  something.  All  light 
means  an  expenditure  of  force.  Both  fat  and  wick 
must  be  consumed  in  burning.  But  can  I  grudge 
the  expenditure  ?  must  I  not  rather  glory  in  it, 
when,  in  proportion  as  I  am  expended  in  His 
service  I  am  myself  transfigured  by  the  flame 
that  consumes? 


JUST  ESTIMATES 


"  Why  beholdest  thou  the  mote  that  is  in  thy  brother's  eye,  but 
considerest  not  the  beam  that  is  in  thine  own  eye  ?  " — Matthew 
vu.  3. 


Theee  ought  surely  to  be  nothing  very  difficult  in 
the  exhibition  of  that  generous  and  considerate 
spirit  which  this  question  of  the  Master's  shows 
to  be  the  only  right  one  for  a  Christian ;  but  if  it 
were  exhibited  always,  what  a  mass  of  uncharit- 
ableness  and  censoriousness  and  bitterness  would 
instantly  disappear  !  There  is  hardly  any  one  who 
is  not  ready  enough  to  do  the  work  of  extracting 
motes  from  his  brother's  eye ;  but  if  it  should  be 
suggested  to  him,  in  the  mildest  way,  that  it  would 
be  well  to  have  the  large  beam  extracted  from  his 
own  eye  first,  that  he  may  see  to  do  it,  he  would 
resent  the  suggestion  as  an  insult.  But  what  the 
Master  here  says  is  that  all  censoriousness  has  its 
root  in  blindness.  There  is  almost  a  touch  of 
humorous  sarcasm  in  His  words,  "  Then  shalt  thou 

31 


32  JUST  ESTIMATES 

see  clearly  to  pull  out  the  mote  " ;  for  it  is  only 
because  we  think  ourselves  irreproachable,  or 
nearly  so,  that  we  are  so  hard  upon  the  faults 
and  deficiencies  of  others. 

Here,  then,  my  Master  gives  me  what  is  really 
an  axiom,  or  first  principle,  on  Christian  living. 
"  Before  you  condemn  your  brother  from  the  height 
of  your  own  rectitude,  look  narrowly  into  yourself ; 
do  not  loftily  condemn  any  man  unless  you  have  a 
keen  sense  of  your  own  liability  to  err,  either  in 
the  same  way  as  he,  or  in  some  other  way  equally 
abhorrent  to  the  purity  of  God :  and  remember 
that  the  same  charity  you  are  asked  to  show  will 
be  needed  for  yourself."  What  has  been  called 
the  Golden  Eule  is,  '*Do  unto  others  as  you  wish 
others  to  do  to  you."  But  another  rule,  equally 
golden  and  equally  divine,  is  this.  Do  unto  others 
as  you  would  have  God  do  to  you.  ''If  ye  forgive 
not  men  their  trespasses,  neither  will  your  Father 
who  is  in  heaven  forgive  you  your  trespasses." 

The  doctrine  of  human  depravity  is  sometimes 
called  a  cruel  doctrine.  So  far  from  that,  the 
whole  beautiful  edifice  of  Christian  charity  is  built 
upon  the  recognition  of  it.  For  if  I  set  out  with 
assuming  that  all  men  are  naturally  good,  and  that 
right  living  is  easy,  and  then  demand  that  they 
shall  always  act  in  accordance  with  that  assump- 
tion, my  judgments  of  them  are  sure  to  be  unjust 
and  hard.  But  if  I  begin  by  remembering  the 
taint   of    evil   that   infects   us    all,   that   all   are 


Just  estimates  33 

weakened  and  debased  by  tendencies  inherent  in 
them,  and  then  make  up  my  mind  to  treat  them 
in  accordance  with  that  fact,  I  lay  at  once  a 
foundation  for  all  that  is  generous  as  well  as  just 
in  my  estimate  of  their  faults.  I  treat  children 
tenderly  because  they  are  children.  I  treat  the 
sick  with  greater  forbearance  than  the  strong 
because  they  are  sick.  I  put  myself  willingly  out 
of  the  way  of  the  blind,  the  deaf,  the  lame,  because 
these  infirmities  appeal  to  my  magnanimity.  If  I 
expand  that  rule  till  it  covers  moral  weaknesses 
as  well  as  spiritual  ones,  I  lay  the  foundation  of  a 
charity  wide  and  tender  as  that  of  God  Himself. 

There  is  a  mighty  difference  between  the  way  in 
which  I  am  at  liberty  to  deal  with  sin  and  the  way 
in  which  I  must  deal  with  the  sinner  who  falls  into 
the  sin.  I  may  strike  as  hard  as  I  please  when 
denouncing  the  sin ;  but  when  the  thing  I  am 
dealing  with  is  a  sensitive,  human  heart,  my  stroke 
must  have  more  than  faithfulness  in  it.  It  must 
have  tenderness  as  well.  For  any  one  who  has 
fallen  low,  the  way  back  to  uprightness  is  steep 
enough.  I  need  not,  by  hard  reproaches,  make  it 
perpendicular. 

Then,  too,  I  am  to  bear  in  mind  the  constitu- 
tional differences  between  different  men.  We  do 
not  all  see  alike,  nor  feel  alike.  Our  mental  habits 
and  our  passions  are  not  all  alike.  We  are  all 
temptable,  but  not  all  temptable  in  the  same  way. 
The  sins  of  one  are  not  the  sins  of  another.     Some 

4 


34  JUST  ESTIMATES 

are,  by  temperament,  cold  and  passionless ;  others, 
also  by  temperament,  fiery,  impulsive,  hot.  The 
special  sins  of  some  men  are  sins  of  "  the  flesh" ; 
of  others,  sins  of  "the  spirit."  We  have  all  our 
characteristic  sins ;  and  it  is  by  no  means  true 
that  those  forms  of  sin  which  the  world  agrees  to 
condemn  are  worse  in  the  eyes  of  the  Holy  One 
than  those  which  it  never  visits  with  its  con- 
demnation at  all.  I  cannot  be  just  in  my  esti- 
mates of  men  unless  I  estimate  by  a  divine,  and 
not  merely  a  human,  rule. 

I  am  to  treat  men,  too,  not  according  to  what 
they  might  be,  but  according  to  what  they  are; 
and  in  condemning  them  for  what  they  are,  I  must 
ask  how  they  have  become  what  they  are.  Have 
they  not  been  subjected  to  evil  influences  that 
never  surrounded  me  ?  Have  they  not  been 
assailed  by  temptations  from  which  God's  mercy 
has  kept  me  free  ?  And  am  I  sure  that  even  while 
I  condemn  them,  they  may  not  be  "repenting  in 
dust  and  ashes  "  ?  I  dare  not  forget  that  Christ 
my  Lord,  the  Infinite  Pity,  Himself  declared  that 
some  of  the  most  degraded  upon  earth  may  be,  in 
a  self-abasement  known  only  to  Him,  nearer  the 
Kingdom  of  God  than  those  who,  in  a  self- 
righteous  pride  of  purity,  look  down  upon  them 
with  contempt.  I  see  the  fallen  only  as  they  now 
are:^  The  previous  causes  that  made  them  what 
they  are  I  seldom  know.  There  are  men  whose 
virtues  are  really  more  the  result  of  good  early 


JUST  ESTIMATES  35 

training,  good  surroundings,  and  good  health,  than 
of  any  careful  determination  to  do  the  right ;  and 
there  are  other  men  whose  failings  are  due  more  to 
evil  education,  vicious  surroundings,  poverty,  and 
bad  health,  than  to  any  determined  love  of  sin. 
There  are  in  some  men  Christian  excellences 
which  it  cost  them  almost  no  trouble  to  attain, 
for  these  are  simply  the  fruit  of  a  disposition 
naturally  sweet.  There  are  in  others  blots  and 
disfigurements  of  character  which  are  due  chiefly 
to  some  diseased  heredity,  against  which  they  may 
be  struggling  more  faithfully  than  I  know ;  for  it  is 
only  the  unsuccessful  struggles  which  I  see.  There 
may  thus  be  far  more  of  the  grace  of  God  in  some 
very  imperfect  men  than  there  is  in  others  beside 
them  who  appear  to  be  much  better  Christians. 
It  is  strange  how  little  I  can  know  of  the  daily 
struggle  with  evil  that  is  going  on  in  the  breasts 
of  some  of  my  closest  friends;  and  stranger  still 
that,  knowing  so  little,  I  can  be  so  harsh  and 
unfeeling  in  my  judgments  of  them  as  I  some- 
times am. 

A  very  large  proportion  of  the  heart-burnings 
that  often  separate  chief  friends  come,  not  from 
real  injuries  done  on  either  side,  but  from  the 
imagination  and  imputation  of  evil  where  no  evil 
was  meant.  The  origin  of  many  a  long-standing 
strife  can  be  traced  to  no  higher  or  worthier  source 
than  this,  an  appearance  of  evil  on  one  side  and 
an  uncharitable    judgment   on    the   other.      The 


36  JUST  ESTIMATES 

sensitive  spirit  was  wounded  by  some  omission  of 
usual  civilities,  some  reported  fragment  of  conver- 
sation, some  harmless  little  pleasantry  or  jest,  some 
incident  that  looked  like  a  studied  affront.  The 
slight  "  appearance  of  evil "  was  magnified  till  it 
wore  the  aspect  of  a  deliberate  insult ;  and  so  an 
estrangement  began  and  lasted  for  years,  the  inno- 
cent cause  of  it  being  all  the  time  completely 
unable  to  say  why  it  should  have  lasted  for  a 
single  day.  The  evil  of  this  is  great.  The  sin 
of  it  is  great.  It  stands  among  the  "  works  of  the 
flesh"  under  the  title  "evil  surmisings  "  ;  and  it 
is  emphatically  condemned  by  Christ,  who  said, 
"  Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  judged  "  :  for  the  man 
who  suspects  every  one  else  is  generally  to  be 
suspected  himself.  That  accurate  knowledge  of 
human  nature  on  which  he  prides  himself,  and  on 
which  he  grounds  his  suspicions,  has  generally 
been  gained  at  home.  The  sins  he  sees  are  like 
his  own  reflection  in  a  glass. 

I  am  sure  there  must  be  a  great  deal  more  of 
righteousness,  and  striving  after  righteousness,  in 
the  world  than  I  sometimes  dream.  I  too  easily 
take  it  for  granted  that  everywhere  the  devil  is 
king.  I  forget  that,  even  in  dens  of  ignorance  and 
vice,  God  knows  of  many  in  whose  hearts  there  is 
a  great  disgust  at  sin,  and  great  longings  for  the 
purity  that  is  so  hard  to  reach.  Abraham,  on  enter- 
ing Gerar,  among  the  Philistines,  said,  "  Surely  the 
fear  of  God  is  not  in  this  place."    It  was  a  grievous 


JUST  ESTIMATES  37 

mistake.  The  true  "fear  of  God"  was  at  that 
moment  not  in  Abraham,  but  in  Abimelech,  whom 
he  thought  a  heathen  out  and  out.  It  was  Abime- 
lech who  played  the  part  of  a  thoroughly  upright 
man.  It  was  he  who  was  a  child  of  the  light. 
Abraham  was  for  the  moment  a  child  of  the  dark- 
ness, and  proudly  condemned,  without  a  hearing,  a 
better  man  than  himself. 

I  am  not,  as  sometimes  advised,  to  *'  err  on  the 
side  of  charity,"  for  I  am  not  to  "  e?T  "  in  any- 
thing. The  teaching  of  my  Master  is  not  "  be 
indifferent  to  other  men's  faults,  for  all  men  are 
much  the  same."  I  am  to  be  just  as  well  as 
generous.  But  if  I  always  judge  in  charity  I 
shall  not  err.  True  Christian  charity  is  often,  like 
Mahomet's  road  to  Paradise,  a  narrow  knife-edge 
keen  as  a  sword-blade ;  and  this  narrow  edge  has 
the  yawning  precipice  of  bigotry  on  the  one  side 
and  of  indifference  upon  the  other.  I  must  not 
fall  into  eithe?' :  and  therefore  when  I  do  discover 
some  mote  in  my  brother's  eye  I  will  look  humbly 
for  the  beam  that  may  be  in  my  own ;  and  remem- 
bering that  those  whom  I  most  sternly  judge  may, 
at  that  very  moment,  be  more  sternly  judging 
themselves,  I  will  try  to  learn  from  my  Master 
that  Divine  charity  of  which  He  Himself  was  the 
finest  example  ;  I  will  learn  from  Him  to  play 
more  nobly  than  did  the  elder  son  in  His  parable 
the  elder  brother's  part. 


VI 

AN  INFALLIBLE  TEST 


"  Do  men  gather  grapes  of  thorns,  or  figs  of  thistles  ?  " — Matthew 
vii.  16. 


What  an  attentive  reader  of  nature  my  Master 
always  was !  What  open  eyes  He  had  for  the 
Father's  teaching  in  it !  What  a  deep  significance 
He  found  in  common  things!  How  clearly  the 
Father's  works  spoke  to  Him  of  that  Father's 
righteousness,  as  well  as  of  the  Father's  love ! 
He  drew  comfort  to  Himself,  as  well  as  gave 
comfort  to  others,  by  His  tender  way  of  looking 
at  the  lilies  and  the  birds.  I  might  be  holier  and 
happier  too  if  I  resembled  Him  more  in  this.  All 
nature  should  speak  to  me  as  it  spoke  to  Him. 
He  has  already  made  nature  read  me  a  beautiful 
lesson  of  trust :  now  He  makes  it  read  to  me  a 
lesson  of  zvise  discrimination.  In  this  far-reach- 
ing question  of  His,  He  is  teaching  me  how  to 
judge  of  many  things  that  perplex  me,  through  the 

38 


AN  INFALLIBLE  TEST  39 

difficulty  of  separating  truth  from  error  and  of 
deciding  whether  some  special  thing  is  right  or 
wrong.  He  tells  me  to  decide  the  matter  by 
noting  the  effect  which  it  produces.  That  cannot 
be  a  bad  thing  the  fruit  of  which  is  always  good. 
That  cannot  be  a  good  thing  the  natural  fruit  of 
which  is  evil.  Let  me  look  at  the  world,  and  at 
my  own  life  in  the  world,  and  judge  of  both  by 
this  infallible  test. 

Let  me  think  of  the  folly  of  expecting  sweet  and 
wholesome  fruit  from  trees  that  cannot,  by  any 
possibility,  produce  it.  I  am  making  plans  for  my 
future,  perhaps  starting  in  the  world ;  and  I  have 
some  great  ambitions  which  I  would  fain  see  real- 
ised. I  am  planning  for  the  finest  grapes  :  let  me 
look  well,  then,  to  the  kind  of  trees  I  am  planting. 
Am  I  planting  thorns  in  the  hope  that  they  will 
yield  me  by  and  by  the  sweet  clusters  I  am  long- 
ing for  ?  It  is  only  the  devil  who  promises  grapes 
from  thorns :  and  he  has  never  yet  fulfilled  that 
promise  to   any  man,  and  never  can. 

My  Master  does  not  say,  ''Do  men  expect  to 
gather  grapes  from  thorns  ?  "  for  He  knew  well 
that,  strange  as  it  seems,  that  is  exactly  what 
thousands  do  expect.  His  question  is,  ' '  Do  they 
ever  succeed  in  finding  them  ?  "  The  thorn-bushes 
of  dishonesty,  trickery,  self-indulgent  vice,  and 
other  sorts,  are  planted  thick  in  their  life-field ; 
and  they  calculate  confidently  on  seeing  sweet 
fruit  hanging  on  them  ere  long.     They  do  not  call 


40  AN   INFALLIBLE   TEST 

them  thorns.  They  give  them  some  other  and 
finer  name,  which  hides  their  real  character.  In 
the  new  catalogues  of  moral  horticulturists  the 
plants  are  vaunted  as  not  being  the  old  hurtful 
sorts,  but  shrubs  entirely  different ;  and  the 
ignorant,  foolish  heart  is  beguiled  into  the  idea 
that  the  old-fashioned  laws  of  God  have  been 
changed,  in  these  later  scientific  days,  for  some- 
thing better.  Yet  the  old  unanswerable  question 
still  remains  to  be  faced,  "Do  these  trees,  call 
them  by  what  name  you  will,  ever  really  give  you 
grapes,  or  reward  you  for  the  trouble  of  planting 
them  ?  " 

My  own  experience  can  surely  confirm  my 
Master  here.  Many  a  time  I  have  planted  in  my 
life-garden  what  I  thought  would  turn  out  to  be 
good  fruit-bearing  trees,  and  to  my  shame  and 
sorrow  I  found  them  to  be  thorns  and  nothing  else. 
Sin  often  promised  me  much,  but  it  always  deceived 
me.  "  I  sinned,  and  it  profited  me  not."  Look 
back  as  far  as  I  may,  I  cannot  point  to  even  one 
sinful  act  or  habit  that  ever  did  me  good.  What 
pleasure  may  have  been  in  it  for  the  moment  was 
always  followed  by  keener  pain  ;  and  since  I  have 
known  some  of  the  sweet  satisfactions  of  righteous- 
ness, the  joys  of  the  pure  in  heart,  the  peace  that 
fills  a  soul  renewed,  I  can  only  ask  myself,  in 
amazement  at  my  former  blindness  and  folly, 
"What  fruit  had  I  then  in  those  things  of  which  I 
am  now  ashamed  ?  "     Let  me  listen  to  my  Master, 


AN  INFALLIBLE  TEST  41 

and  listen  also  to  my  own  memory  which  says 
Amen  to  all  my  Master's  words. 

And  if,  as  may  be  the  case,  I  am  perplexed  by 
the  fact  that  all  my  endeavours  to  live  rightly  so 
continually  fail,  let  me  honestly  ask  if  the  reason 
for  that  fact  be  not  this  :  that  the  tree  itself  is  not 
good,  else  the  fruit  would  be  good ;  that  the  defect 
is  not  in  my  efforts,  but  in  the  very  nature  that 
puts  the  efforts  forth ;  that  I  have  not,  what  1 
must  have  if  my  efforts  are  to  be  successful,  a 
renewed  nature  to  begin  with  ?  For  all  my  striv- 
ings to  live  according  to  godliness,  before  I  am 
thoroughly  changed  in  my  whole  spirit  and  mind 
and  feelings  by  the  grace  of  God,  will  only  be  efforts 
to  hang  good  fruit  on  branches  whereon  they  never 
grew. 

But  I  have  here  a  test  for  trying  other  things 
than  my  own  personal  life.  My  Master's  question 
helps  me  much  when  I  am  perplexed  by  the 
constant  attacks  made  upon  my  Christian  faith, 
and  things  which,  from  the  beginning,  have  been 
dear  to  Christian  men.  I  hold,  with  the  Church  of 
all  the  ages,  that  the  Scriptures  are  the  Word  of 
God,  but  I  am  staggered  sometimes  in  my  faith  by 
the  confident  attacks  that  are  made  upon  them  ;  I 
am  told  that  I  am  quite  behind  the  times,  and  that 
my  old-fashioned  beliefs  are  now  exploded  for  ever. 
Well,  I  have  only  to  think  of  all  that  this  Word  of 
God  has  done  for  the  regenerating,  the  uphfting, 
the   sweetening  of  the   world  wherever  its  holy 


42  AN  INFALLIBLE  TEST 

influence  has  been  allowed  free  play.  I  have  only 
to  think  of  how  it  has  been  an  enlightener  of 
ignorance,  a  rebuker  of  sin,  a  healer  of  corruption, 
a  deliverer  of  the  oppressed,  an  uplifter  of  the 
degraded,  a  guide  to  the  wanderer,  a  help  to  the 
weary,  a  comforter  to  the  sad.  I  have  only  to 
remember  how  it  has  been  God's  message  of 
highest  love  to  men,  speaking  of  salvation  to  the 
sinful,  of  peace  to  the  tried,  of  hope  to  the  despair- 
ing, of  life  to  the  dying,  of  heaven  to  the  bereaved. 
I  have  only  to  think  of  all  this,  and  ask  how  that 
can  possibly  be  a  bad  tree  that  has  always  yielded 
fruit  so  sweet. 

If  I  am  perplexed  with  arguments  tending  to 
overthrow  the  sacredness  of  the  Sabbath  Day,  I 
think  of  the  beautiful  clusters  of  ripe  fruit  that  are 
gathered  from  it  by  every  one  who  has  it  growing 
in  the  midst  of  his  worries  and  his  cares ;  and  I 
say  confidently.  That  tree  is  good. 

I  hear  ridicule  poured  upon  missions  to  heathen 
lands.  They  are  condemned  as  useless,  and  even 
hurtful  to  the  "child  of  nature,"  the  picturesque 
and  happy  savage.  I  am  told  that  Hinduism  is 
as  good  a  religion  for  India  as  Christianity  is 
for  me ;  that  Buddhism  is  quite  sufficient  for  all 
the  spiritual  needs  of  Mongolia  and  Thibet ;  that 
Confucianism  is  for  a  Chinaman  a  better  guide 
than  the  precepts  of  Jesus  Christ;  that  Moham- 
medanism is  as  good  for  the  Arab  and  Turk  as  my 
own  rehgion  is  for  those  that  live  under  western 


AN  INFALLIBLE  TEST  43 

skies ;  and  my  answer  needs  only  to  be  this 
practical  one,  "by  their  fruits  ye  shall  know 
them."  I  see  the  kind  of  fruit  brought  forth  by 
these  religions,  and  I  see  how  unspeakably  bad  it 
is.  My  answer  to  those  who  praise  Hinduism  is 
simply  "India!  "  My  answer  to  those  who  extol 
Buddhism  or  Confucianism  is  "  China!  "  My  reply 
to  the  apologist  for  Mohammedanism  is  "  Africa  !  " 
By  their  fruits  of  evil  I  judge  them  all. 

There  are  things  at  home  too  which  sometimes 
perplex  me  not  a  little.  What  am  I  to  say  about 
the  Tightness  or  wrongness  of  much  that  seems 
clearly  opposed  to  the  mind  of  Christ,  and  yet  is  not 
only  tolerated  but  approved  by  large  numbers  who 
bear  His  name  ?  What  is  to  be  my  judgment,  for 
example,  about  the  theatre  ?  I  need  nothing  else 
to  test  it  by,  than  the  fruit  it  has  always  brought 
forth.  It  is  defended  as  a  great  "school  of 
morals  " ;  but  if  so,  I  ask  how  it  has  been  con- 
demned, by  the  wisest  and  best  of  every  age,  as 
immoral  in  its  effects;  not  by  Christians  only, 
but  by  heathen  themselves.  I  ask  how  it  is  that 
the  "  teachers  of  morality  "  on  the  stage  are  never 
found  taking  part  in  more  evident  means  of  pro- 
moting morality  off  the  stage  ;  how  the  theatre  has 
always  so  strong  an  attraction  for  the  worst  classes 
of  every  community ;  how  the  most  corrupt  and 
profligate  find  there  a  congenial  home ;  how  so 
many  have  dated  their  life-ruin  from  their  first 
entrance  into  this  "school  of  morals";  and  how 


44  AN  INFALLIBLE  TEST 

it  comes  to  pass  that  every  theatre-lover  who 
becomes  a  converted  man  and  an  earnest  Christian 
immediately  gives  it  up  ?  History  tells  me,  the 
confessions  of  its  own  votaries  tell  me,  my  own 
observation  tells  me,  that  its  fruit  is  always  evil ; 
and  I  will  not  call  by  the  name  of  grapes  what 
grows  upon  so  rank  a  thorn-tree  as  that.  In  this 
case,  and  in  a  hundred  more,  the  Master's  incisive 
question  helps  me  out  of  more  difficulties  than  I 
could  believe. 

Yet  let  me  learn  one  thing  more.  I  cannot  help 
thinking  that  in  my  Lord's  own  divine  husbandry 
of  the  soul  there  is  such  a  thing  as  making  me  to 
gather  grapes  from  thorns  and  figs  from  thistles. 
He  finds  it  necessary  sometimes  to  punish  my 
waywardness  by  doing  to  me  what  Gideon  did, 
when  he  "taught  the  men  of  Succoth  with  thorns 
and  briars  "  ;  but  His  sorest  chastenings  of  my 
pride  and  foolishness  yield  such  fruit  of  righteous 
holiness,  when  I  am  "  exercised  thereby,"  as  to 
become  blessings  in  disguise.  No  thorns  planted 
by  my  own  hands  can  ever  yield  me  good.  But 
the  Lord  can  use  them  in  a  different  way;  to 
scourge  me  with  when  I  rebel:  and  then  "His 
chastenings  serve  to  cure  the  soul  by  salutary 
pain."  I  have  sometimes  already  got  blessing  out 
of  my  own  thorns  in  this  strange  way.  If  He  will 
bring  me  more  of  it  yet  in  the  same  way,  till  I 
am  wholly  His,  I  will  only  praise  His  name. 


VII 
SAVOUELESS   SALT 

"  Ye  are  the  salt  of  the  earth  :  but  if  the  salt  has  lost  its  savour, 
wherewith  shall  it  be  salted?  " — Matthew  v.  13. 

My  Lord  tells  me,  in  this  striking  way,  how  great 

a  privilege  is  given  me ;  and  also  how  terribly  I 

may  fail  of  being  what  He  expects  me  to  be.     The 

world  is  corrupt ;  not  one  part  of  it  only,  but  all ; 

and  I  am  to  be  in  it  as  a  purifying  power.     I  am 

to  make  my  contact  with  the  world  a  sanctifying 

thing.     My  quiet,  noiseless   influence  is  to  be  a 

pungent,  penetrating  influence  for  good  on  every 

part  of  its  complex  life  which  I  touch. 

I  am  reminded  by  this   that  if  I  am  to  be  a 

healer  of  the  world's  corruption  I  must  myself  be 

different  from  the  world,  myself  renewed  divinely 

in  spirit  and  in  aim.     What  heals  corruption  must 

be   entirely   different   from,   and   opposite  to,  the 

corruption  which  it  seeks  to  heal.     I  must  have 

not  merely  a  better  form  of  the  world's  life,  but  a 

divine  life.     Have  I  this  ? 

is 


46  SA1;^0URLESS   SALT 

Then,  next,  I  am  reminded  that  if  G-od  has  put 
His  divine  life  into  me,  it  is  that  He  may  use  me 
to  communicate  hfe.  I  am  called  to  be  a  "  saint "  : 
that  my  saintliness  may  make  some  others  a  little 
more  saintly  too.  He  works  in  me  first,  but  only 
that  He  may  work  hy  me  next.  I  am  to  be  His 
willing  servant  to  promote  the  righteousness  of  His 
kingdom  in  other  souls.  But  He  warns  me  faith- 
fully that  my  salt  may  lose  its  savour,  and  so  my 
power  to  influence  the  world  for  good  may  pass 
completely  away.  Let  me  ask  myself  if  this 
deteriorating  process  may  not  be  already  begun, 
or  even  be  far  advanced  towards  loss  irreparable. 
Let  me,  with  a  jealous  fear  of  savourlessness,  look 
well  to  my  own  spiritual  life. 

For  the  beginning  of  the  loss  is  sure  to  be  found 
in  the  carelessness  of  my  own  personal  walk  with 
G-od.  If,  on  an  honest  review,  I  am  forced  to  feel 
that  I  have  declined  in  my  spiritual  force,  I  am 
sure  to  find  the  secret  of  that  decline  in  another 
and  more  private  one  which  has  been  going  on 
perhaps  for  long,  a  decline  in  the  fervour  of  my  own 
heart-fellowship  with  Christ.  If  I  have  to  confess 
that  my  zeal  for  my  Master  is  not  so  intense  as  it 
used  to  be,  that  my  love  to  Him  prompts  me  to  less 
than  it  once  did,  that  my  conscience  is  not  so  keen 
and  fresh  as  once  it  was,  that  my  whole  spiritual 
vision  is  now  very  dim ;  I  may  easily  discover 
the  reason.  It  is  because  I  have  now  far  less 
delight  in   secret  prayer  than  I   had    in   earlier 


SAVOURLESS  SALT  47 

days.  I  do  not  read  the  Bible  now  with  the 
old  hunger  for  heavenly  food.  I  do  not  read 
it  with  the  same  delight,  or  reverence,  or  insight, 
or  submissiveness  of  spirit.  I  have  grown  greatly 
*'  out  of  touch  "  with  God  ;  and  so,  though  I  still 
keep  far  away  from  any  participation  in  the  ways 
of  vice,  the  world's  sin  does  not  move  me  to  pity 
or  to  prayer  or  to  efiort  as  once  it  did.  I  still  use 
all  the  accustomed  forms  of  Christian  speech,  but 
without  much  fervour  of  heart.  I  still  hold  to  the 
saving  truth ;  but  it  is  dimmer  and  hazier  to  me 
than  once  it  was.  I  stand  for  all  the  doctrines  of 
the  faith  as  much  as  ever  ;  but  there  is  no  joyous 
ring  in  the  tone  with  which  I  utter  or  defend  them. 
Though  I  can  argue  for  them  as  before,  the  warmth 
of  them  is  gone.  My  intellect  may  be  as  clear  as 
a  frosty  night,  but  my  heart  is  just  as  cold. 

If  I  wonder  how  this  can  come  to  pass  in  any 
Christian  life,  my  Master  hints  at  the  cause  of  it 
in  His  metaphor,  the  salt.  If  salt  ever  loses  its 
savour,  the  loss  is  due  to  outside  influences.  It 
would  remain  for  millenniums  with  all  its  inherent 
qualities  unimpaired,  if  it  were  not  exposed  to  sun 
and  rain,  or  to  the  dampness  of  the  cellar  in  which 
it  lies.  My  Lord  would  thus  suggest  to  me  that 
my  chief  danger  is  that  the  subtle  influences  of 
the  world  around  me  may  affect  me  gradually  till 
they  have  robbed  me  of  all  my  power  for  Him. 
The  influence  of  my  social  ivorld  may  affect  me 
thus.    It  beckons  me  to  share  its  pleasures.    I  go 


48  SAVOURLESS   SALT 

into  them  at  first  with  a  secret  repugnance  to 
much  that  I  see.  Soon  I  will  go  without  any 
repugnance  at  all.  The  good  opinion  of  my  little 
world  will  gradually  be  more  attractive  to  me  than 
the  approval  of  my  Master  ;  and  I  will  compromise 
my  allegiance  to  Him  for  the  sake  of  standing  well 
with  it.  I  will  become  a  casuist  before  I  know, 
saying  to  myself  that  it  is  good  to  make  the 
Christian  discipleship  as  attractive  to  the  world 
as  I  can,  and  that,  for  that  purpose,  I  must  meet 
the  world  half  way.  I  promise  my  remonstrating 
conscience  to  use  for  Christ  the  influence  I  thus 
may  gain  over  unchristian  friends.  I  flatter  myself 
that  I  will  take  the  world  by  the  hand  and  lead  it 
back  to  Him.  But  soon  I  too  surely  find  that  the 
drag  is  all  the  other  way.  I  do  not  gain  the 
world,  but  the  world  gains  me  ;  till  at  last  I  dare 
not  open  my  mouth  to  speak  of  my  Master  at  all. 
If  I  did,  I  would  be  met  with  its  contempt  for  my 
inconsistency.  The  world  would  do  with  me  what 
it  does  with  savourless  salt,  "  trample  it  under- 
foot." 

The  influences  of  the  intellectual  world  may  also 
affect  me  injuriously.  I  may  "lose  my  savour  " 
through  the  action  upon  me  of  that  subtle  but 
strong  force  which  is  called  "  the  spirit  of  the  age," 
the  general  trend  of  cultured  thought  which  sur- 
rounds me  like  an  atmosphere  from  which  I  cannot 
get  away.  When  I  hear  a  sceptical  science  boasting 
that  it  has  destroyed  all  common  religious  beliefs ; 


SAVOURLESS   SALT  49 

when  I  hear  doubts  cast  upon  everything  that  I 
have  been  accustomed  to  accept  as  the  truth  of 
God ;  when  they  meet  me  in  the  literature  I  daily 
read  ;  when  my  newspaper  is  full  of  them  ;  when  I 
hear  them  even  from  the  pulpit  on  the  lips  of 
professed  servants  of  Christ ;  I  can  hardly  escape 
a  certain  cooling  of  my  faith  at  least :  or,  if  faith 
still  survives,  I  am  tempted  to  hide  it  lest  I  should 
be  thought  to  be  "behind  the  age."  I  may  still, 
in  spite  of  all  objectors,  believe  in  the  value  of 
prayer ;  but  I  do  not  pray  with  the  same  childlike 
simplicity  and  confidence  in  my  Father  as  I  used 
to  do.  I  may  still  believe  the  Bible  to  be,  in  some 
limited  sense,  the  very  voice  of  Grod ;  but,  after 
hearing  it  attacked  on  every  side,  even  by  men  who 
profess  to  honour  it,  after  being  told  that  criticism 
has  shown  that  it  was  not  a  supernatural  gift,  but 
only  one  of  the  world's  many  literary  growths,  with 
errors  on  nearly  every  page,  its  voice  is  not  the 
same  to  me  in  tone  or  comfort  or  authority  as  it 
used  to  be.  I  have  got  into  the  damp,  and  my 
spiritual  life  is  like  salt  that  has  lost  its  savour. 
Let  my  Master's  question,  then,  come  closely  home 
to  me,  ere  this  degeneration  of  my  life  ends  in 
utter  loss. 

Still  further,  it  is  suggested  to  me  by  this 
metaphor  that,  as  salt,  however  pure  and  pungent, 
can  do  no  good  unless  it  is  brought  into  actual 
contact  with  corruption,  I  am  not  to  content 
myself  with  sitting  apart  and  lamenting  the  evil 

5 


50  SAVOURLESS   SALT 

of  the  world,  or  with  shutting  myself  up  in  a 
secluded  sanctity,  leaving  the  world  to  its  doom. 
I  am  to  see  that  my  salt  really  touches  the  evil 
that  is  round  about  me.  How  is  it,  then,  with  my 
Christian  influence  over  what  is  nearest  to  me — 
my  own  friends,  my  own  family-circle,  my  own 
home  ?  Does  it  hallow  everything  there,  or  try  to 
do  it  ?  How  about  my  children :  their  food  and 
drink  and  dress ;  the  kind  of  education  I  am  giving 
them ;  the  kind  of  companionships  I  allow  them 
to  form  ;  the  kind  of  books  I  allow  them  to  read ; 
the  kind  of  places  I  allow  them  to  frequent ;  the 
kind  of  amusements  I  encourage  them  in ; — am  I 
training  them  for  the  ivorld,  and  according  to  the 
maxims  of  the  world  ?  or  for  Christy  and  according 
to  His  maxims  and  His  law  ? 

How  about  my  friends  ?  Can  they  see  so  much 
of  the  Christ-spirit  in  me  that  they  feel  my  presence 
to  be  a  really  sanctifying  force  ?  Surely  it  is  worth 
a  great  deal  for  me  so  to  live  as  to  get  my  Master 
better  loved  and  served  by  even  one  single  soul. 
Am  I  doing  this  ?  Let  me  take  heed  lest,  while 
the  world  praises  me  because  I  do  not  disturb  it, 
my  Master  should  condemn  me  for  unfaithfulness 
to  Him ;  and  lest,  though  saved  myself,  I  should 
be  saved  only  as  one  drawn  out  of  the  fire,  barely 
escaping  with  life,  and  having  no  "works  to 
follow"  me,  far  less  to  accompany  me  ;  receiving 
no  honour  or  reward  at  the  Master's  hands. 

The  great  need  of  the  day  is  not  so  much  of 


SAVOURLESS   SALT  51 

earnest  evangelists  to  preach  the  gospel  by  their 
lips  as  of  earnest  Christians  to  preach  it  by  their 
lives ;  for  the  world  is  far  from  being  a  holy  world, 
only  because  the  followers  of  a  holy  Christ  are  so 
far  from  being  sufficiently  holy  men  and  women. 
The  quiet  influence  of  a  sanctified  life  will  often 
do  more  good  than  a  hundred  sermons.  Every 
lover  of  music  knows  Mendelssohn's  "  Songs  without 
Words."  My  life  as  a  Christian  is  to  be  a  "  sermon 
without  words."  I  may  put  Bible  texts  upon  the 
walls  of  my  house,  or  have  them  lying,  beautifully 
illuminated,  between  the  pages  of  my  devotional 
books ;  but  if  my  whole  daily  life  were  manifestly 
a  following  of  my  Lord,  I  would  make  myself  a  text 
for  other  eyes  to  read ;  a  far  more  effective  way, 
after  all,  of  showing  to  every  friend  and  visitor 
"  whose  I  am  and  whom  I  serve."  I  would 
seek  to  be  not  merely  a  Naphtali,  "  giving  goodly 
words,"  but  a  Joseph,  "  a  fruitful  bough,  whose 
branches  go  over  the  wall.^^ 


VIII 
NOT  FEAE,   BUT   TEUST 

"Why  are  ye  so  fearful,  0  ye  of  little  faith?  " — Matthew  viii.  26. 
"  Where  is  your  faith  ?  " — Luke  viii.  25. 
"  How  is  it  that  ye  have  no  faith  ?  " — Mark  iv,  40. 
"0  thou  of  little  faith,  wherefore  didst  thou  doubt  ?  " — Matthew 
xiv.  31. 

Often  does  my  Master  need  to  speak  in  this  way 
to  me.  When  I  am  confronted  with  some  great 
difficulty  from  which  I  cannot  extricate  myself, 
or  am  involved  in  troubles  for  which  I  am  not 
responsible,  especially  when  they  come  upon  me 
unexpectedly  and  suddenly,  how  easily  I,  too,  lose 
faith  in  God,  as  if  He  were  carelessly  leaving  me 
to  perish.  Yesterday,  I  was  sitting  on  the  quiet 
hillside,  and  there  was  not  the  faintest  sign  of 
coming  storm.  How  happy  and  contented  I  was 
in  the  feeling  of  my  Master's  presence  and  the 
hearing  of  His  voice !  His  great  love  seemed 
brooding  over  me,  and  I  was  resting  under  it, 
"quiet  from    the  fear   of   evil."     To-day,  in  the 

52 


NOT  FEAR,  BUT  TRUST  53 

wild  storm  that  has  burst  upon  me,  yesterday's 
peace  seems  only  a  dream.  I  seem  to  have  lost 
everything  ;  not  only  peace,  but  hope  as  well ;  not 
only  hope,  but  my  very  faith  itself.  I  have  still 
my  Master  with  me,  but  the  calmness  of  my  trust 
in  Him  is  gone.  I  almost  accuse  Him  of  forget- 
ting me,  and  I  think,  "  What  can  even  He  do  for 
me  if  He  is  asleep  ?  " 

I  had  seen  enough  of  His  power  and  love  at 
other  times  to  banish  every  fear,  and  when  He  put 
His  "  new  song  into  my  lips  "  I  felt  as  if  I  never 
could  distrust  Him  for  a  moment,  come  what 
might.  But  the  sudden  whirlwind  shattered  into 
fragments  that  poor  faith  of  mine  that  seemed  so 
strong.  I  never  knew  how  poor  it  was  till  it  was 
tested  by  this  storm  ;  and  now  I  hear  my  Lord 
rebuking  me  for  my  faithlessness,  wondering  at  it 
while  He  rebukes  it,  saying,  "Where  is  your 
faith?"  He  expected  better  things  than  this  from 
me.  I  have  disappointed  Him  ;  I  have  wounded 
Him  by  my  unbelief.  "You  could  trust  Me,"  He 
says,  "  when  all  was  bright,  but  you  cannot  trust 
Me  when  the  first  darkness  falls."  It  goes  to  His 
heart  to  find  me  such  a  poor  disciple. 

This  failure  of  my  faith,  just  when  I  need  it 
most,  shows  me  that  I  have  never  yet  taken  firm 
enough  hold  of  His  promises ;  never  looked  deep 
enough  into  His  heart  of  love ;  never  realised 
enough  the  power  of  His  glorious  hand ;  never 
given  Him  full  credit  for  being  what  He  assured 


54  NOT  FEAR,  BUT  TRUST 

me  He  would  be.  What  I  called  my  faith  in 
brighter  times  was  not  really  faith  at  all,  but  only 
that  vague  happiness  that  is  born  of  sunshine,  and 
dies  the  moment  the  sun  has  set  and  chill  darkness 
falls. 

How  very  glibly  I  have  sometimes  talked  of 
*'  walking  by  faith  and  not  by  sight,"  as  if  it  were 
the  easiest  of  all  things,  the  very  alphabet  of 
Christian  experience,  a  sort  of  spiritual  truism; 
instead  of  being,  as  it  really  is,  one  of  the  last  and 
highest  of  spiritual  attainments,  a  thing  that  can 
be  learned  only  through  long  training  and  at  great 
cost.  It  is  very  easy  to  go  on  rejoicingly  with 
God  when  He,  every  moment,  makes  the  smoothest 
of  pathways  for  my  feet;  opening  Red  Seas  by 
miracle  as  soon  as  I  reach  them ;  sending  manna 
from  heaven  as  soon  as  I  am  hungry ;  making  the 
hard  rock  yield  me  a  gushing  stream  as  soon  as  I 
faint  with  thirst.  But  when  I  "see  not  my  signs," 
when  He  gives  me  none  of  these  tokens  of  His 
care,  but  rather  leaves  me  purposely  without  them 
to  find  what  manner  of  spirit  I  am  of,  still  to  go  on 
as  happily  as  if  I  saw  them  all — still  to  believe  the 
love  that  hides  itself,  still  to  trust  where  I  cannot 
understand — that  is  the  only  faith  worth  anything, 
the  only  faith  that  "  overcomes."  "  Little  Faith" 
may  be  a  sincere  enough  disciple,  but  he  is  always 
an  unhappy  and  discouraged  one.  "Great  Faith" 
is  a  prince  with  God,  a  conqueror  not  only  over 
sin,  but  over  fear. 


NOT  FEAR,   BUT  TRUST  55 

The  Master  seems  to  teach  me  by  these  storms 
on  the  lake,  that  the  sore  troubles  that  break  over 
my  life  do  not  always,  or  often,  come  as  punish- 
meyits  for  some  sin,  but  rather  as  discipline  for  the 
deepening  of  my  trust.  The  disciples  were  sur- 
prised by  sudden  storms  when  they  were  in  the 
way  of  duty,  simply  obeying  the  Master's  command 
to  cross  the  lake ;  and  that  fact  seems  to  say  to 
me,  "  Do  not  argue  that,  when  some  very  sore  and 
unlooked-for  trial  comes  on  you — in  your  body, 
your  home,  your  business,  your  reputation,  or 
whatever  else — you  must  have  been  somehow 
grieving  your  Lord  and  compelling  Him  thus  to 
chastise  you.  It  need  not  be  a  punishment,  but 
only  one  of  His  strange  ways  of  raising  you  to  a 
higher  conception  of  Him,  and  to  a  nobler  faith. 
This  sevenfold  heated  furnace  is  not  kindled  by 
"  the  wrath  of  the  King,"  but  by  His  love ;  and 
the  meaning  of  it  will  be  clear  when  the  faith 
that  has  endured  it  is  purified  by  means  of  it,  and 
shines  out  a  finer  faith  than  it  was  before.  Some 
one  has  said  that  "Providence,  like  Hebrew,  needs 
to  be  read  bacJcivards.''^  It  is  the  end  that  explains 
the  beginning.  I  can  wait  for  God's  explanations 
till  heaven  comes  ;  meanwhile,  "  I  will  trust,  and 
not  be  afraid." 

Looking  at  that  second  storm,  where  Peter's 
faith  and  fear  were  both  called  out,  the  one  by  the 
Master,  the  other  by  the  waves,  it  gladdens  me  to 
see  that  the  Lord  did  not  rehulce  His  trembling 


56  NOT  FEAR,   BUT  TRUST 

disciple  till  He  had  saved  him  first,  and  that  He 
laid  hold  of  Peter  before  Peter  could  lay  hold  of 
Him.  It  is  always  so.  It  is  the  Lord  who  begins, 
as  well  as  completes,  the  saving  work.  I  do,  and 
must,  cling  firmly  to  my  Deliverer's  hand ;  still, 
my  security  lies  not  in  my  grasp  of  Him,  but  in 
His  grasp  of  me.  My  grasp,  however  firm,  may 
soon  relax;  but  His  hand  is  never  weary  and  never 
weak.     In  that  my  safety  lies. 

I  think,  too,  with  joy,  of  the  exceeding  tender- 
ness of  the  Master's  rebuke  when  at  last  He 
uttered  it.  He  did  not  say,  "  Wherefore  didst 
thou  come,  if  thy  faith  could  not  hold  out?  "  He 
only  says,  "  Wherefore  didst  thou  doubt  1  "  The 
Lord  of  the  soul  never  says  to  any  man,  "  You 
have  trusted  Me  too  much."  He  did  not  say 
to  Peter,  "  0  thou  of  no  faith,"  only  "  0  thou  of 
little  faith,"  for  He  saw  some  faith  there;  and 
though  a  strong  faith  wins  His  strong  encomium, 
even  a  weak  faith  gladdens  His  heart.  Still,  weak 
faith  misses  much  that  great  faith  always  enjoys. 
John  Bunyan,  in  his  inimitable  "  Pilgrim's  Pro- 
gress," pictures  many  varieties  of  little  faith. 
Besides  "  Little  Faith  "  himself,  there  is  "  Eeady- 
to-halt,"  and  "  Feeble-mind,"  and  "Fearing,"  and 
"Despondency,"  and  "Much-afraid."  He  has 
given  so  many  portraits  of  that  family  just  because 
the  family  is  so  large,  and  some  of  them  are  to  be 
met  with  almost  everywhere ;  and  though  they  all 
got  into  the  Celestial  City  at  the  end,  they  suffered 


NOT  FEAR,   BUT  TRUST  57 

terribly  by  the  way,  from  obstacles  that  a  stronger 
faith  would  have  easily  overcome.  "  Great  Faith" 
lives  in  the  tropics,  and  has  a  perpetual  summer  ; 
''  Little  Faith's  "  years  are  like  Norwegian  years — 
very  short  summers  and  very  long  winters ;  his 
harvests  can  hardly  be  reaped,  the  storms  are  wild, 
and  his  music  is  chiefly  in  the  minor  key.  Surely 
little  faith  is  not  what  might  be  expected  from  one 
who  has  so  great  a  Lord !  There  is  such  an 
infinity  of  grace  and  power  in  Him,  that  He 
expects  the  heart  that  trusts  Him  at  all  to  trust 
Him  to  the  uttermost ;  at  least.  His  blessed  way 
of  lifting  me  out  of  all  my  discouragements  is 
this— a  loving  whisper,  *'  Wherefore  didst  thou 
doubt?" 

When  I  see  my  Master,  as  I  hope  to  do,  in  the 
land  beyond  the  sea,  and  begin  to  recount,  as  I  am 
sure  to  do,  the  wonders  of  His  love  to  me  when 
I  was  crossing  to  it,  when  I  "  praise  Him  with 
unsinning  heart,"  and  tell  Him  that  the  most 
wonderful  of  all  surprises  is  just  to  find  myself  in 
heaven  beside  Him  after  all,  a  heaven  I  some- 
times hardly  hoped  to  see,  I  think  He  will  have 
nothing  to  say  to  me  but  this,  ''  0  thou  of  little 
faith,  wherefore  didst  thou  doubt  ?  Was  I  not 
well  able  to  keep  My  promises  to  thee  ?  Where- 
fore didst  tJiou  doubt  i  Has  not  all  the  darkness 
passed,  as  I  said  it  would  ?  Wherefore  didst  thou 
douht  ?  Did  I  not  tell  thee  that  '  My  sheep  can 
never  perish  ?  '    Wherefore  didst  thou  douht  ?    Has 


68  NOT  FEAR,  BUT  TRUST 

not  death  itself  been  made  to  thee  the  gate  of 
heaven,  as  I  said  it  would  ?  Wherefore  didst  thou 
doubt  ?  Am  I  not  proving  to  thee  here,  in  the 
glory  and  the  gladness,  proving  to  thee  for  the 
thousandth  time,  that  '  him  that  cometh  unto  Me 
I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out  ?  '  Wherefore  didst  thou 
doubt  ?  Dost  thou  not  now  see  that  all  the  paths 
of  the  Lord  were  mercy  and  truth  ?  0  thoio  of  little 
faith,  wherefore  didst  thou  doubt  .^  "  If  this  will 
really  be  my  gracious  Saviour's  love-welcome  to 
me  at  the  last,  and  if  all  my  doubts  of  Him  will 
end  on  the  other  shore,  I  will  try  to  end  them  even 
here,  and  say,  as  I  look  straight  to  His  blessed 
face,  '*  Lord,  I  believe  ;  help  Thou  my  unbelief." 

•'  When  I  ill  darkness  walk, 
Nor  feel  the  heavenly  flame, 
Then  is  the  time  to  trust  my  God, 
And  rest  upon  His  name. 

Soon  shall  my  doubts  and  fears 

Subside  at  His  control, 
His  loving-kindness  shall  break  through 

The  midnight  of  the  soul. 

Blest  is  the  man,  0  God, 

That  stays  himself  on  Thee; 
Who  wait  for  Thy  Salvation,  Lord, 

Shall  Thy  salvation  see." 


IX 

THE   NICKNAMED   CHEIST 

"  If  they  have  called  the  Master  of  the  house  Beelzebub,  how 
much  more  shall  they  call  thera  of  His  household  ?  " — Matthew 
X.  25. 

This  question  comforts  me.  It  even  ennobles  me. 
To  be  a  sharer  in  "the  reproach  of  Christ" — 
what  greater  honour  could  fall  to  me  on  earth  than 
that  ?  This  carrying  of  my  Master's  cross  is  a  link 
between  me  and  Him.  I  have  sometimes  almost 
envied  Simon  the  Cyrenian  his  privilege  of  help- 
ing to  carry  the  actual  cross  on  the  way  to  Calvary  : 
but  I  see  that  it  is  given  to  me  to  ''  take  up  the 
cross  daily  "  and  carry  it  after  Him,  ''  so  filling  up 
that  which  is  behind  of  the  afflictions  of  Christ  "  ; 
and  I  envy  Simon  no  more.  What  he  did  o?ice  I 
can  do  every  day. 

What  scandalous  misrepresentations  my  Lord 
had  to  endure,  not  merely  from  His  angry  and 
contemptuous  foes,  but  even  from  His  well-meaning 
friends !    I  recall  how,  once,  His  own  mother  and 

59 


60  THE  NICKNAMED   CHRIST 

His  brethren,  unable  to  understand  His  absorbing 
devotion  to  His  Father's  work,  afraid  that  He  was 
kilHng  Himself  by  His  protracted  labours  of  love, 
and  fearing  that  He  was  exposing  Himself  to 
danger  from  plots  devised  to  take  away  His  life, 
sought  to  "lay  hands  on  Him,"  and  hurry  Him 
away  into  a  place  of  safety,  saying,  "  He  is  beside 
Himself."  They  wanted  to  shield  Him  from 
violence  by  the  cruel  suggestion  that  He  was  not 
responsible  for  His  acts!  "He  is  in  league  with 
Beelzebub,"  said  the  Pharisees.  "  No,"  said  His 
friends,  "  but  His  strange  ways  of  acting,  so  unlike 
those  of  any  other  Kabbi  in  the  land,  show  that 
He  is  not  quite  Himself  !  "  How  much  my  Lord 
had  to  endure  from  blinded  men  !  The  Incarnate 
Wisdom  was  defended  from  the  charge  of  being  a 
demoniac  by  the  excuse  that  He  was  a  lunatic  ! 

If  I  am  faithfully  following  in  my  Master's  steps, 
I  will  sometimes  have  similar  misrepresentation  to 
meet ;  but  I  may  console  myself  by  remembering 
that  "it  is  enough  for  the  disciple  to  be  as  his 
Lord."  Neither  Christ  nor  Christ-like  men  can 
have  much  of  popularity  in  a  world  that  despises 
both ;  and  the  more  closely  I  tread  in  my  Master's 
footprints,  the  less  of  this  popularity  will  I  share. 
If  true  to  my  Lord,  I  must  exited  the  hatred  of 
"the  world,"  and  not  be  disconcerted  when  it 
comes.  Sometimes  an  inexperienced  Christian  is 
alarmed  at  it.  Called  suddenly  to  oppose  the 
world,  after  having  been  long  sheltered  in  the  safe 


THE  NICKNAMED   CHRIST  61 

rest  of  a  Christian  home,  the  intense  hatred  and 
scorn  which  a  decided  stand  for  Christ  calls  forth 
comes  upon  him  as  an  unwelcome  surprise,  and 
he  either  falls  before  it,  or  wonders  that  a  Master 
who  said,  "  My  yoke  is  easy  and  My  burden  is 
light,"  gives  him  so  heavy  a  cross  to  bear.  Some- 
thing of  this  sort  may  fall  to  my  lot  soon.  Let 
me  fortify  myself  beforehand  by  considering  how 
hel;pful  the  opposition  of  the  world  may  prove 
to  be. 

For  one  thing,  it  will  help  me  to  realise  more 
distinctly  that  I  belong  to  Christ.  It  will  only 
assure  me  that  I  am  of  the  Master's  "  household  "  : 
for  if  I  were  not,  the  world  would  let  me  alone. 
So  if  I  am  not  spared  the  pain  of  the  cross,  I  am 
not  denied  the  blessing  of  it  either. 

For  another,  it  will  make  my  separateness  from 
the  world  more  clear  to  others  as  well  as  to 
myself.  Whenever  I  find  that  completely  worldly 
men  delight  in  my  society,  and  that  I  delight  in 
theirs,  I  need  no  other  proof  of  the  unsatisfactory 
character  of  my  own  spiritual  life.  The  disciple - 
ship  of  an  unworldly  Christ  must  be  a  Church 
Militant,  not  a  Church  Quiescent ;  and  so  long 
as  it  is  so,  "  all  that  will  live  godly  in  Christ 
Jesus  must  suffer  persecution." 

No  doubt  the  timid,  indolent,  self-seeking,  time- 
serving disciple,  who  is  silent  in  the  presence  of  sin, 
who  never  disturbs  the  composure  of  the  world 
by  word  or  act,  who  never  by  his  own  godliness 


62  THE  NICKNAMED  CHRIST 

of  life  condemns  the  world,  will  be  not  only 
unmolested,  but  even  praised  as  a  beautiful 
specimen  of  what  a  charitable,  tolerant,  broad- 
minded  Christian  ought  to  be !  But  true 
"  witnesses "  for  God's  righteousness  the  world 
cannot  endure  to-day,  any  more  than  it  could 
endure  the  Supreme  Witness  nineteen  centuries 
ago.  It  will  persecute  them  now  just  as  it  did 
then ;  if  not  with  material  fire  and  sword,  at  least 
with  weapons  quite  as  keen,  and  whose  wounds  go 
deeper  far — with  slander  and  scorn  and  ridicule 
and  that  quiet,  contemptuous,  social  ostracism 
which,  to  many  sensitive  hearts,  is  the  hardest 
thing  of  all  to  bear. 

If  I  do  not  earn,  to  some  extent,  the  same 
opprobrium  that  bespattered  my  Lord,  I  may  well 
begin  to  ask  myself  whether  my  discipleship  is  so 
bold  and  thorough-going  as  He  expects  it  to  be. 
The  world  likes  best  a  religion  that  has  its  claws 
cut  and  its  teeth  drawn  ;  that  is  simply  orna- 
mental, and  offends  nobody.  But  if  my  religion 
is  one  that  gets  the  praise  of  completely  unsanctified 
men,  because,  as  they  say,  it  is  so  reasonable  and 
sane  and  moderate,  always  "  kept  in  its  proper 
place,"  never  making  any  protest  against  iniquity 
and  wrong ;  I  may  surely  ask  myself,  with  serious 
concern,  whether  that  is  the  kind  of  religion  under 
the  power  of  which  my  Master  lived  and  died,  or 
the  kind  of  religion  that  should  satisfy  me  as  His 
disciple.     Eather  let  me  count  it  an  honour  to  be 


THE  NICKNAMED  CHRIST  63 

nicknamed  ^'  picritanical  "  because  I  cannot  stoop  to 
the  level  of  those  whose  only  notion  of  "  pleasure  " 
is  utter  frivolity  or  vice,  whose  only  idea  of 
**  liberty "  is  unbridled  license  to  sin.  Let  me 
pray,  with  deepest  earnestness,  that  my  Lord  may 
never  need  to  say  to  me,  "  the  world  cannot  hate 
you,  but  Me  it  hateth,  because  I  testify  of  it  that 
its  deeds  are  evil." 

Still,  let  me  remember  that  the  comfort  of  my 
Master's  words  belongs  to  me  only  if  the  hatred  of 
the  world  which  I  endure  is  really  a  hatred  of  my 
godly  uprightness;  if,  when  I  am  ''persecuted," 
it  is  really  "/or  my  righteousness^  sake."  For  a 
disciple  of  Christ  may  be  disliked  by  the  world  on 
quite  other  grounds  than  that.  There  may  be 
something  in  his  bearing  which  needlessly  exas- 
perates men,  instead  of  conciliating  them.  In  the 
tone  with  which  he  rebukes  sin  there  may  be, 
consciously  or  unconsciously,  an  arrogance  which 
destroys  the  power  of  his  rebuke.  Some  foolish 
utterances  of  his  own  he  may  insist  upon  being 
received  as  the  very  truth  of  God ;  or  his  argu- 
ments in  support  of  the  truth  may  be  absurd  and 
weak ;  and  opposition  to  him  excited  by  such 
defects  as  these  he  must  not  call  opposition  to 
God.  He  may  be  disliked  and  hated  for  some 
glaring  faults  in  his  own  character,  and  not  "for 
Christ's  sake  "  at  all.  Not  every  earnest  Christian 
is  ivise.  Even  thoroughly  genuine  men  may  so 
act  that  "their  good  comes  to  be  evil  spoken  of." 


64  THE  NICKNAMED  CHRIST 

It  is  needful,  therefore,  before  claiming  for  myself 
the  comfort  of  this  word  of  my  Master's,  to  be  well 
assured  that  it  is  really  His  reproach  I  bear ;  that  I 
am  carrying  His  cross,  and  not  merely  one  of  my 
own  making.  But  if  I  am  "reproached  for  the 
name  of  Christ,  happy  am  I :  the  spirit  of  glory 
and  of  God  resteth  upon  me,  and  He  is  glorified." 
One  other  thought  suggests  itself.  The  men 
that  sneered  at  Christ  have  ceased  their  sneering 
long  ago,  and  never  will  sneer  again.  The  Christ 
they  mocked  came  forth  from  that  fire  unharmed, 
and  has  been  for  long  centuries  on  the  throne  of 
heaven  where  angels  worship  Him  and  saints 
adore.  If  my  cross  be  heavy,  I  have  not  very  far 
to  carry  it :  and  five  minutes  of  heaven  will  more 
than  compensate  all.  "  Christ  and  His  cross ^^^ 
said  Samuel  Eutherford,  "  go  hand  in  hand  to 
heaven's  gate,  but  they  part  company  for  ever  at 
that  door  :  within  the  gate  are  only  Christ  and 
His  glor2j.^^  To  carry  my  Master's  reproach  for  a 
few  short  years  is  all  He  asks,  and  He  will  repay 
me  with  everlasting  honour.  Surely  the  carrying 
it  may  be  my  joy !  It  has  been  beautifully  said 
regarding  Simon  the  Cyrenian,  who  carried  with 
Christ  the  heavy  cross  of  wood,  that  when  he 
began  that  walk  along  the  Via  Dolorosa  he  could 
have  told  to  a  pound  the  weight  he  had  to  lift ; 
but  ere  he  had  finished  the  journey  to  Calvary, 
he  had  forgotten  that  there  was  a  cross  upon 
his   back   at   all.      If  I   bear  the  Master's   cross 


THE  NICKNAMED  CHRIST  65 

unwillingly,  I  will  talk  plenty  about  my  "  sore 
affliction";  but  if,  by  companying  with  Him,  I 
catch  something  of  His  Spirit,  know  something 
of  His  grace,  and  see  something  of  His  glory, 
I  will  forget  my  own  pain,  and  only  rejoice  in  the 
privilege  of  suffering  "with  Him." 

Oh  the  sorrow  of  it,  that  I  have  borne  so  little 
for  Him  who  bore  so  much  for  me  !  Let  me  stir 
myself  up  to  a  truer  discipleship :  and  then — 

•'If  on  my  head  for  Thy  dear  name 
Shame  and  reproach  shall  be, 
I'll  hail  reproach  and  welcome  shame, 
If  Thou  remember  me." 


X 

DULL   MINDS  AND    MEMOEIES 

"  Why  reason  ye,  because  ye  have  no  bread  ?  Perceive  ye  not  yet, 
neither  understand  ?  Have  ye  your  heart  yet  hardened  ?  Having 
eyes,  see  ye  not  ?  and  having  ears,  hear  ye  not  ?  and  do  ye  not 
remember?  When  I  brake  the  five  loaves  among  five  thousand, 
how  many  baskets  full  of  fragments  took  ye  up  ?  .  .  .  and  when  the 
seven  among  four  thousand,  how  many  baskets  full  of  fragments 
took  ye  up  ?  .  .  .  How  is  it  that  ye  do  not  understand  ?  " — Mark 
viii.  17-21. 

"  Know  ye  not  this  parable  ?  and  how  then  will  ye  know  all 
parables  ?  " — Mark  iv.  13. 

"  Are  ye  also  yet  without  understanding?  " — Matthew  xv.  16. 

The  great  Master  had  to  suffer  not  only  from 
*'the  contradiction  of  sinners,"  but  from  the 
obtuseness  of  His  own  disciples.  And  yet  how 
gently  He  dealt  with  both !  If  I  am  sometimes 
irritated  by  slowness  of  comprehension  in  those  I 
am  seeking  to  lead  into  truth,  let  me  think  how 
patiently  He  dealt  with  those  He  had  been  teach- 
ing for  more  than  eighteen  months,  and  seemingly 
in  vain.  He  was  grieved  with  their  obtuseness 
and  forgetfulness ;  one  might   say   He   was    dis- 

66 


DULL  MINDS  AND  MEMORIES  67 

appointed  with  it ;  but  He  was  not  angry.  He 
did  not  give  up  the  work  in  disgust  or  despair. 
He  quietly  taught  them  for  the  twentieth  time, 
what  they  had  not  taken  in  at  any  of  the  previous 
nineteen.  Still,  there  was  something  pathetic  in 
His  rebuke.  It  saddened  Him  to  see  that  they 
could  not  understand  the  simplest  forms  of  His 
teaching,  and  could  not  rise  above  the  lowest  level 
of  thought.  '*  Why  reason  ye  because  ye  have  no 
bread  ?  Do  ye  not  remember  ?  "  They  could  not 
profit  by  a  wonderful  past.  They  seemed  not  able 
to  use  their  eyes  and  their  ears.  His  nine  con- 
secutive questions  about  the  miracles  and  the  loaves 
showed  how  accurately  He  remembered  all.  He 
could  recall  the  smallest  details ;  the  varying 
numbers  of  the  people  that  were  fed ;  the  varying 
numbers  of  the  loaves  and  fishes ;  the  two  different 
kinds  of  baskets ;  and  the  differing  number  of 
baskets,  proportioned  to  their  size.  No  detail  had 
faded  from  His  recollection.  Why  should  all  have 
made  so  small  an  impression  upon  them  ?  Why, 
above  all,  should  they  imagine  that  He  was  always 
troubling  Himself  about  the  small  earthly  matters 
that  troubled  them  ?  Would  they  never  rise  to 
His  level  of  concern,  to  His  absorption  with  great 
spiritual  realities,  instead  of  living  so  far  down 
among  merely  material  ones  ?  And  again ,  would 
they  never  come  to  see  that  to  Him  the  inward 
was  infinitely  more  than  the  outward  ?  that  what 
He  looked  chiefly  at  was  not  the  washing  of  the 


68  DULL  MINDS  ANt)  MEMORIES 

hands  but  the  cleansing  of  the  soul?  ''Are  ye 
also  yet  without  understanding  as  to  this  ?  "  He 
says.  Was  their  unworldly,  heavenly-minded 
Master  a  complete  enigma  to  them  still,  after  all 
these  months  ? 

But  am  I  so  very  different  from  these  disciples  ? 
Does  He  find  no  blind  eye  or  deaf  ear — no  dulness 
of  memory  and  understanding  in  me  ?  For  many 
long  years  He  has  been  showing  me  the  wonders 
of  His  love,  and  I  see  them  not.  He  has  been 
speaking  to  me  with  many  a  voice — sometimes 
sternly,  sometimes  encouragingly,  sometimes  warn- 
ingly,  always  lovingly ;  and  I  hear  Him  not.  When 
I  am  disheartened,  I  forget  His  power,  and  I 
forget  my  own  experience  of  His  power.  I  am 
worried  and  troubled,  as  if  I  had  never  known 
what  it  was  to  have  Him  supplying  all  my  need. 
It  is  because  I  "  do  not  remember  "  that  I  doubt ; 
because  I  "  do  not  remember  "  that  I  sin;  because 
I  "  do  not  remember"  that  I  fear.  Each  new 
emergency  lands  me  in  new  perplexity,  because  I 
*'  do  not  remember."  This  is  7ny  great  failing  too. 
Must  I  not  be  grieving  and  disappointing  my 
Master  just  as  these  disciples  did  ? 

But  I  must  ponder  His  question  about  His 
parable,  as  well  as  these  questions  about  the 
miracles.  "  Know  ye  not  this  parable  ?  "  He  asks, 
''how  then  will  ye  understand  others?"  It  was 
a  very  simple  one,  but  they  could  not  read  it ;  and 
He  says,  with  a  sort  of  sadness  in  His  tone,  "  how 


DULL  MINDS  AND  MEMORIES  69 

can  I  teach  you  My  deeper  things,  if  this  is  too 
deep  for  you  ?  "  Let  me  take  home  to  myself  the 
truth  that,  without  a  Divine  illumination,  even  the 
simplest  divine  things  will  be  only  mysteries  to 
me.  All  parables  are  pictorial  illustrations  of 
truth ;  and  it  is  often  easier  to  understand  a 
picture  than  the  letterpress.  But  it  is  not  illits- 
tration  only  that  I  need  ;  I  need  illmnination  too. 
If  the  Spirit  of  truth  does  not  unfold  the  truth  to 
me,  I  shall  never  see  it.  To  the  things  of  God 
even  the  most  soaring  genius  may  be  completely 
blind;  its  flashes  of  intuition,  even,  tell  nothing. 
The  sea  of  Divine  truth  is  one  whose  shallows, 
equally  with  its  depths,  it  cannot  fathom  of  itself. 
"  The  natural  man  receiveth  not  the  things  of  the 
Spirit  of  God."  But  more  than  that :  "  they  are 
foolishness  to  him,  neither  can  he  know  them ;  for 
they  are  spiritually  discerned."  When  I  have 
difficulties  about  the  interpretation  of  the  Word,  I 
will  pray  for  this  Divine  illumination  first  of  all. 
I  will  not  ask  the  commentators  what  my  Master 
means.  I  will  go  directly  to  the  Author  Himself ; 
and  His  promise  to  me  is  that  I  shall  not  go  in 
vain.  ''  The  Spirit  of  truth,"  He  says,  "  shall  guide 
you  into  all  the  truth." 

But  in  the  last  of  these  questions  the  Lord 
came  even  closer  home  to  His  disciples'  hearts. 
There  was  another  thing  yet  He  wondered  at :  their 
slowness  to  understand  that  His  kingdom's  right- 
eousness concerned  itself  more  with  inward  purity 


70  DULL  MINDS  AND  MEMORIES 

than  with  merely  external  obediences.  When  the 
formal,  punctilious  Pharisees  rebuked  them  for 
eating  with  unwashen  hands,  and  He  defended 
them  by  expounding  that  the  real  purity  was  purity 
of  heart,  they  could  hardly  take  in  a  doctrine  so 
revolutionary  of  all  their  accustomed  modes  of 
thinking ;  and  the  grieved  Master  had  again  to 
say  to  them,  "  Are  ye  so  without  understanding 
also?"  "Do  even  ye  not  yet  perceive  that  the 
real  seat  of  evil  is  the  evil  heart,  and  that  if  the 
heart  be  not  cleansed,  all  cleansing  of  the  hands 
will  go  for  nothing  ?  "  The  scribes  lived  only  upon 
ceremonies.  Jesus  lived  upon  Truth.  That  was 
the  essential  difference  between  Him  and  them; 
and  it  roused  His  righteous  indignation  that  the 
leaders  of  the  people,  the  scholars  and  the  theo- 
logians of  the  day,  were  teaching  others  that  reli- 
gion consisted  in  a  punctilious  round  of  mean 
trivialities,  that  could  be  attractive  only  to  the 
meanest  souls. 

I  glory  in  having  a  Master  who  always  looked 
beneath  the  surface,  and  brought  Eeality  into  view. 
He  never  attempted  to  "  save  appearances  "  at  the 
expense  of  truth.  He  said  "  the  kingdom  of  God 
is  within  you  "  ;  "  what  your  hearts  are,  that  you 
yourselves  are,  and  only  that."  And  I  cannot  but 
think  how  terribly,  if  He  were  visibly  amongst  us 
to-day.  He  would  thunder  upon  the  world  these 
scorching  exposures  of  His,  and  tell  it  that  rehgion 
is  not  a  poor  affair  of  meats  and  drinks,  of  ritual 


DULL  MINDS  AND  MEMORIES  71 

and  music,  and  sacerdotal  magic,  nor  even  of  alms- 
giving and  benefactions  and  worship  where  wor- 
ship is  in  the  fashion ;  but  of  purity  of  soul, 
sanctity  of  life,  and  complete  consecration  to  the 
will  of  God.  "  Washing  your  hands  !  "  He  would 
say,  "as  if  that  were  enough,  while,  all  the  time, 
you  are  soaking  your  souls  in  secret  pollution !  " 
And  how  He  would  set  fire,  too,  to  those  poor 
controversies  that  so  often  divide  His  Church : 
controversies  about  things  as  unimportant  to  its 
great  mission  as  the  washing  of  hands  was  to  the 
service  of  God.  Alas  !  how  slow  His  disciples  still 
are  to  learn  that  they  cannot  be  on  the  way  to  the 
kingdom  unless  the  Life  of  the  kingdom  be  within 
them !  and  how  many  that  would  pass  for  Christians 
are  strongly  disinclined  to  seek  that  this  kingdom's 
Life  may  be  so  fully  in  them  as  to  be  the  great 
controlling  force  !  When  He  asks  them,  "  Wilt 
thou  be  made  wliole  ?  "  they  say,  "  No — somewhat 
better,  certainly,  but  not  completely  wliole.'^ 
Nothing  would  more  utterly  disconcert  them  than 
that  Christ  should  set  them  completely  free  from 
every  land  of  sin  !  But  if  my  worldliness  is  soul- 
deep,  and  my  Christliness  only  skin-deep,  the 
world  may  applaud  me,  but  Christ  will  not  own 
me  for  a  day. 

Do  all  disciples  understand  their  Master  even 
yet  ?  Do  I  understand  Him  well  enough  to  see 
that  my  chief  concern  every  day  must  be  to  look  to 
the  state  of   my  affections  and  desires,  and  that 


72  DULL  MINDS  AND  MEMORIES 

my  chief   effort   every  day  must  be  to  be  pure 
within  ? 

One  other  thought  suggests  itself  to  me — a  very 
comforting  one.  Absolutely  perfect  is  my  Lord's 
knowledge  of  all  the  impurities,  and  lusts,  and 
deceits,  and  falsities  that  lie  concealed  in  every 
human  heart ;  and  yet  (wonder  of  wonders !)  His 
knowledge  of  this  dark  and  deep  depravity  does 
not  chill  His  love.  He  knows  the  very  worst  about 
me ;  He  sees  me  to  be  inherently  more  vile  than 
I  ever  saw  myself  to  be ;  He  knows  not  only  all  I 
have  been,  and  all  I  am,  but  all  that  I  yet  will 
show  myself  to  be  till  sin  is  expelled  from  my 
heart  for  ever.  And  yet  He  undertakes  to  be  my 
Kedeemer  from  it  all !  Only  when  I  realise  this 
blessed  truth  can  I  look  my  sins  in  the  face,  though 
humbled  and  broken-hearted  because  of  them  ;  for 
then  there  comes  to  me  the  glad  news  of  God, 
that  "  where  sin  aboundeth,  grace  aboundeth  still 
more." 


XI 

THE   HIDING   OF   HIS  POWER 

"  How  many  loaves  have  ye  ?  " — Matthew  xv.  34. 

"  Whence  shall  we  buy  bread,  that  these  may  eat  ?  " — Johk  vi.  5. 

The  first  thing  I  notice  here  is  my  Master's  deep 
compassion  for  every  human  need;  not  for  the 
highest  only,  but  even  for  the  lowest  of  all. 
"  Jesus  moved  with  compassion  "  is  His  enduring 
name ;  a  name  that  explains  His  life,  His  teachings, 
and  His  death  as  well.  It  was  out  of  compassion 
for  the  sinful,  that  He  came ;  out  of  compassion 
for  the  ignorant,  that  He  spoke  ;  out  of  compassion 
for  the  sorrowful,  that  He  wept ;  out  of  compassion 
for  the  wayward,  that  He  rebuked ;  out  of  com- 
passion for  the  sick,  that  He  healed ;  out  of  com- 
passion for  the  lost,  that  He  died :  and  it  is  out  of 
compassion  for  His  weak  and  weary  and  tempted 
and  discouraged  brethren  that  He  lives  in  heaven 
"  making  intercession "  still.  A  com;passionate 
Christ  is  the  Christ  I  need.    Even  among  earthly 

73 


74  THE  HIDING  OF  HIS  POWER 

friends  the  compassionate  friend  is  the  one  that  I 
need  oftenest  and  need  longest  too.  A  clever  friend 
suits  me  well  enough  now  and  then ;  an  amusing 
friend  may  be  good  for  my  lighter  hours ;  an 
argumentative  friend  may  help  me  when  perplexed. 
But  all  these  fail  me  in  my  deepest  needs ;  they 
even  become  wearisome  when  my  heart  is  sad.  It 
is  my  Master's  infinitely  tender  compassion  for  my 
wants,  for  my  infirmities,  for  my  temptations,  and 
for  my  griefs,  that  attracts  me  to  Him  and  binds 
me  to  Him  most. 

Here  He  was  compassionating  the  souls  of  that 
great  multitude,  speaking  to  them  His  ''  wonderful 
words  of  life  "  ;  but  He  was  compassionating  their 
bodies  too,  giving  them  His  wonderful  food  from 
"  a  table  in  the  wilderness."  Let  me  seek  to  be 
like  my  Master  in  this,  as  in  all  things  else. 
Carrying  to  these  hungry  ones  the  greatest  of  all 
messages.  He  yet  remembered  that  they  had 
nothing  to  eat :  and  the  best  sermon  will  fall  flat 
on  one  who  is  perishing  for  lack  of  food.  That 
cheap  religion  which  leaves  a  tract  at  the  door  of 
the  poor,  where  it  ought,  first  of  all,  to  have  left  a 
loaf  of  bread,  or  a  sack  of  coal,  was  not  my 
Master's  religion.  He  was  touched  with  a  feeHng 
of  the  infirmities  of  the  starving  as  well  as  the 
sins  of  the  lost. 

There  are  philanthropists  in  plenty  who  go  to 
the  other  extreme,  quick  to  relieve  the  hungry  or 
the  sick,  but  with  little  or  no  sympathy  for  their 


THE  HIDING  OF  HIS  POWER  75 

spiritual  needs.  Caring  for  the  hody  they  under- 
stand, but  caring  for  the  soul  seems  only  waste  of 
energy  and  time.  These  two  kinds  of  philanthro- 
pists are  often  suspicious  of  each  other.  Each 
cries  out  that  the  other  is  working  on  wrong  lines. 
It  would  be  a  dark  day  for  the  Divine  kingdom  in 
the  world  if  the  Church  should  forget  that  the 
spiritual  needs  of  men  are  really  the  deepest  and 
most  pressing ;  but  it  too  often  lays  itself  open  to 
the  scorn  of  the  world  by  forgetting  what  its 
Master  did,  and  leaving  to  unchristian  men  the 
work  of  practical  sympathy  which  ought  to  be  dear 
to  itself.  There  was  really  much  force  in  the 
remark  of  the  son  of  a  very  miserly  Christian  who 
prayed  for  the  poor,  "Father,  I  wish  I  had  your 
meal-barrel,  and  then  I  would  answer  your  own 
prayers." 

But  I  see  here  more  than  my  Lord's  beautiful 
compassion :  I  see  also  His  bountiful  hand.  I 
see  the  infinite  resources  of  Divine  Power  that  lay 
behind  the  tenderness  of  Divine  Love.  My  own 
compassion,  when  it  is  deep,  continually  outruns 
my  resources.  I  would  help  thousands  :  I  can  only 
help  one  or  two.  In  Jesus  Christ  the  resources 
were  always  equal  to  the  compassion  ;  and  it  was 
just  His  perfect  consciousness  of  possessing  these 
resources  of  secret  power  that  kept  Him  calmly 
going  with  His  higher  work  till  the  fit  moment 
came  for  bringing  them  forth.  It  was  not  the 
Master,  but  the  disciples,  that  first  alluded  to  the 


76  THE  HIDING  OF  HIS  POWER 

difficulty  of  providing  food  for  that  hungry  multi- 
tude. They  came  to  Him  with  a  hint  that  He 
had  been  too  absorbed  in  His  spiritual  work  to 
note  the  lapse  of  time,  and  that  really  He  ought 
to  think  of  it,  and  send  them  away.  So  the  dis- 
ciples seemed  to  be  more  considerate  than  the 
Master  was ;  but  only  because  they  did  not  know 
either  His  thoughts  or  the  infinite  reserves  of  His 
power.  The  utmost  of  their  compassion  was, 
"  send  them  away  to  buy."  He  looked  at  them 
quietly,  and  said,  "  They  need  not  depart;  give  ye 
them  to  eat."  I  would  like  to  have  seen  their 
faces  as  He  said  that !  They  thought  themselves 
extremely  benevolent  in  making  their  little  sugges- 
tion. All  they  got  for  it  was  a  quiet  rebuke  for 
distrusting  Him.  Alas !  how  prone  are  all  disciples 
still  to  come  to  the  Lord  with  their  poor  sugges- 
tions, as  if  He  needed  to  be  reminded  of  what  is  the 
best  thing  for  Him  to  do  !  Surely  He  knows  well 
when  the  sun  is  going  down  and  when  hunger 
will  become  distress.  Let  mo  leave  my  Master 
to  manage  everything  for  me,  knowing  that  He  has 
the  best  of  reasons  for  all  He  does  and  for  all  He 
seems  forgetting  to  do ;  both  for  His  interventions 
and  for  His  delays  :  for  He  never  brings  out  to  me 
His  resources  till  I  am  at  the  end  of  mij  oivn. 

The  Lord's  question  to  Philip  was  not  for  infor- 
mation. "  This  He  said  to  prove  him,  for  He 
Himself  knew  what  He  would  do."  He  always 
knows  how  every  emergency  of  mine  is  to  be  met, 


THE  HIDING  OF  HIS  POWER  11 

He  knew,  from  the  first,  toJiat  He  would  do  on  that 
green  hillside,  and  Jioiv  He  would  do  it.  He  knew 
the  power  that  was  in  Himself ;  and  so  He  went 
on  calmly  with  His  heavenly  work  till  the  right 
moment  came  for  revealing  that  power.  By  His 
question  He  was  not  asking  food  from  Philip  ;  He 
was  SLsking  faith.  The  answer  He  wanted  would 
have  been,  "  Lord,  all  things  are  possible  unto 
Thee;  speak  the  word  only,  and  this  multitude 
shall  be  filled."  But  poor  Philip  could  only  begin 
to  calculate  and  reckon  up  the  cost  in  earthly 
coin !  Very  thoroughly  did  the  question  ''  prove  " 
that  disciple,  and  prove  him  to  his  shame.  Does 
not  my  Lord  often  confront  me  with  difiiculties 
just  to  prove  whether  I  have  sufficient  faith  in 
Him  or  not  ?  He  has  always  a  good  reason  for 
everything  He  does,  or  delays  to  do ;  and  though 
the  reason  may  be  a  merciful  one,  it  is  frequently 
a  humbling  one  as  well.  For  loss  of  health,  for 
the  miscarrying  of  my  plans,  for  the  emptying  of 
my  home,  for  the  frustration  of  my  hopes,  for  the 
baffling  of  my  selfish  schemes  He  has  always  a 
reason:  and  the  reason  may  be  this,  to  "prove" 
whether  I  know  Him  so  well  as  to  trust  Him 
right  through  all.  I  will  try,  henceforth,  to  see 
written  by  His  hand,  over  all  the  strange  and  inex- 
plicable trials  of  my  life,  this  great  inscription, 
*'  this  He  did  to  prove  him "  ;  and  then  I  will 
write  with  my  own  hand  beneath  it,  ''I  will  trust, 
and  not  be  afraid."     I  will  call  even  the  barest 


18  THE  HIDING  OF  HIS  POWER 

wilderness  in  my  life  by  a  new  name,  "  Jehovah 
Jirah,"  for  I  am  sure  to  see  how  wonderfully  there 
"the  Lord  can  provide."  My  own  resources  may 
be  very  small ;  only  a  few  loaves  and  fishes.  But 
He  can  make  them  suffice,  and  more  than  suffice, 
for  everything.  The  poorest  Christian  upon  earth 
might  lay  his  head  down  peacefully  upon  the 
pillow  every  night,  with  more  than  the  comfortable 
feelings  of  a  millionaire,  if,  after  thinking  of  his 
little  stock,  and  realising  how  poor  it  is,  he  would 
only  add  to  it,  "  and  Christ,  and  Providence,  and 
my  Father  in  heaven,  and  the  power  that  can 
supply  all  my  need,  and  the  Love  that  never 
fails." 

So,  too,  in  all  my  work  for  the  Master,  even  the 
high  spiritual  work  in  which  He  may  call  me  to  be 
a  sharer  with  Himself.  He  asks  me,  in  that  work, 
to  reckon  up  my  resources — not  to  make  me  feel 
how  great,  but  how  poor  they  are ;  and  so  to 
throw  myself,  in  utter  helplessness,  upon  His  great 
"power  that  worketh  in  me";  a  power  great 
enough  to  bless  my  little  store,  till  it  feeds  even 
thousands  who  are  perishing  for  lack  of  the 
heavenly  Bread.  It  is  not  my  strength,  but  my 
weakness  that  the  Master  uses  most.  It  is  not  my 
sufficiency,  but  my  insufficiency ;  not  my  fulness, 
but  my  emptiness  that  is  the  condition  of  all 
success.  Sometimes  I  may  feel  surprised  that  my 
study  and  preparation,  and  all  my  mental  furnishing 
produce  so  small  an  effect :  and  I  may  find  the 


THE  HIDING  OF  HIS  POWER  7^ 

reason  to  be  this,  that  I  was  too  strong  and  too  full 
for  God  to  use.  I  was  like  King  Uzziahwho  "  was 
marvellously  helped,  till  he  was  strong,  but  when 
he  was  strong,  his  heart  was  lifted  up  to  his  de- 
struction, for  he  went  into  the  temple  to  burn  incense 
upon  the  altar,  and  the  leprosy  rose  up  in  his  fore- 
head before  the  priests  in  the  house  of  the  Lord." 
So  long  as  he  was  weak,  and  knew  his  weakness, 
he  was  safe ;  but  with  the  consciousness  of  strength 
came  the  presumption  that  led  him  to  his  fall.  I 
may  get  too  strong  for  God  to  dwell  in  me,  too 
strong  for  God  to  use.  "He  giveth  His  power  to 
the  faint.''  It  is  to  them  that  "have  no  might," 
and  know  that  they  have  none,  that  He  "  increaseth 
strength."  I  can  never  have  too  little  faith  in  my 
own  resources :  but  I  can  never  have  too  much 
faith  in  my  Lord's.  The  hands  I  stretch  out  for 
Him,  as  well  as  the  hands  I  stretch  out  to  Him 
must  be  empty  hands.  Only  by  what  He  puts  into 
them  will  a  single  soul  be  blessed. 


XII 
"WHAT   THINK  YE   OF    CHEIST  ? " 

"  Whom  do  men  say  that  I  the  Son  of  man  am  ?  " — Matthew 
xvl.  13. 

"  But  whom  say  ye  that  I  am  ?  " — Matthew  xvi.  15. 

These  are  still  the  most  living  questions  of  the 
age.  "What  think  ye  of  Christ?"  is  a  touch- 
stone that  tries  everything  else.  What  I  am 
towards  Christ,  that  is  my  real  character  before 
God.  Character,  condition,  destiny,  are  all 
wrapped  up  in  that. 

As  they  came  from  my  Master's  lips  these 
questions  were  profoundly  pathetic  ones.  He  had 
just  been  "  alone,  praying."  Burdened  with  the 
unbelief  in  His  mission  that  met  Him  everywhere, 
He  had  been  pouring  out  His  heart  in  secret  to 
the  Father;  and  what  the  Father  whispered  to 
Him  had  been  very  sweet :  and  yet  it  would  com- 
fort Him  a  little  to  get  from  these  disciples  who 
knew  Him  best,  some  hearty  Amen  to  the  Father's 
voice ;  and  so,  leading  up  to  the  greater  question 


"WHAT  THINK  YE   OF  CHRIST?"         81 

by  a  smaller  one  first,  He  asks,  "Whom  do  vien 
say  that  I  am?  and  whom  do  yeV 

I  notice,  in  their  answer  to  the  first  question, 
an  indication  of  how  greatly  the  generality  of 
the  people  resj^ected  the  Master.  They  had  only 
good  to  say  of  Him.  The  Pharisees  could  say 
nothing  too  bad  about  Him.  They  called  Him 
a  Samaritan,  a  blasphemer,  a  drunkard,  a  devil ; 
but  the  general  community  had  only  good  to  say  of 
the  Wonder-worker  and  Wonder-speaker  who 
moved  amongst  them  so  unostentatiously  and  so 
beneficently,  day  after  day.  Looking  at  the 
manysidedness  of  His  character,  the  mingling  in 
Him  of  a  holy  zeal  for  righteousness,  and  a 
gracious  tenderness  to  the  sinful  and  the  sad,  they 
had  different  names  to  give  Him ;  but  all  of  them 
great  names,  names  of  honour  and  respect.  Yet 
that  did  not  satisfy  Him.  It  would  have  more  than 
satisfied  any  of  the  disciples  to  be  regarded  so ; 
but  He  claimed  more  than  mere  wonder,  and  liking, 
and  respect.  To  be  admired  and  followed  as  being 
even  the  wisest  and  best  of  men  was  not  enough 
for  Him  ;  for  He  claimed  to  be  Divine,  and  I  find 
that  it  cheered  the  heart  of  my  Lord  to  get  from 
Peter's  heaven-taught  reply  a  recognition  of  that 
truth ;  to  get  from  him  not  admiration  merely,  but 
adoration  too.  ''  Thou  art  the  Christ,  the  Son  of 
the  living  God." 

All  honest  hearts,  in  so  far  as  they  know  Christ 
at  all,  do  still  respect  Him,  at  the  least.      "He 

7 


82         "WHAT  THINK  YE  OF  CHRIST?" 

was  a  good  man,"  say  most.  "  He  deceived  the 
people,"  say  only  the  few,  and  these  few  the  men 
that  know  Him  least.  Bousseau  pays  Him  com- 
pliments. Goethe  thinks  Him  a  gentleman  of  the 
first  water.  Renan  extols  His  beautiful  humanity. 
Thousands  in  our  own  day  acknowledge  Him  to  be 
an  "ideal  man."  But  none  of  these  will  admit 
Him  to  be  anything  higher  than  that.  He  is 
indeed  a  very  serious  difficulty  to  the  race.  In  the 
first  century  He  was  a  great  perplexity;  He  has 
been  a  great  perplexity  ever  since.  Interest  in 
this  wonderful  Christ  cannot  cease  ;  but  the  leaders 
of  the  world's  thought  still  find  Him  an  insoluble 
problem.  They  cannot  account  for  Him  on  any  of 
the  principles  which  alone  they  will  admit.  He  is 
so  evidently  unique  that  they  cannot  classify 
Him.  He  is  so  many-sided  that  they  do  not 
know  what  shelf  in  their  museum  of  heroes  to 
put  Him  on. 

For,  to  some  He  is  only  the  historical  Christ, 
a  great  and  noble  figure  of  the  early  time,  a 
pattern  man  ;  and  what  they  give  Him  is  only 
the  same  hero-worship  they  give  to  many  besides. 
To  others  He  is  not  even  so  much  as  that.  He  is 
only  a  j^oetic  Christ,  a  sublime  beneficence  with  a 
halo  round  His  head ;  too  ethereal  to  have  been 
ever  actual ;  a  beautiful  dream  or  myth  of  ages 
long  gone  by.  They  treasure  Him  as  the  creation 
of  devout  fancy.  Their  imagination  worships 
Him,  but  that  is  all.     To  some  He  is  a  democratic 


"WHAT  THINK  YE   OF  CHIRST?"         83 

Christ,  a  reformer,  a  revolutionist,  a  man  whose 
teachings,  if  carried  out,  would  upset  all  the 
ordinary  evil  conditions  of  society  and  bring  in 
the  golden  age  of  brotherhood  in  all  the  earth. 
For  that  they  enthrone  Him  and  bow  the  knee, 
but  for  nothing  else.  There  are  some  to  whom 
He  is  only  the  theological  Christ.  He  aids  their 
speculations.  He  answers  some  of  their  doubts, 
He  helps  them  to  round  off  their  theological 
beliefs ;  but  it  is  merely  intellectual  supremacy 
they  concede  to  Him.  He  moves  their  intellects, 
but  never  touches  their  hearts.  There  are  others 
again  to  whom  He  is  infinitely  more,  to  whom  He 
is,  above  all  things  else,  the  atoning  Christ,  the 
sinner's  Christ,  the  uplifter  of  the  fallen,  the 
redeemer  of  the  captive,  the  restorer  of  the 
strayed,  the  Saviour  of  the  lost.  These  not 
only  admire  and  reverence  Him,  they  worship 
Him  as  well.  They  know  and  love  Him,  first  as 
the  sinner's  Christ  and  then  as  the  disciples' 
Christ.  He  is  first  the  Christ  of  personal  need, 
and  then  the  Christ  of  personal  experience ;  first 
a  Christ  whom  faith  receives,  then  a  Christ 
whom  love  obeys.  A  Saviour  first,  and  then  a 
friend,  and  then  a  Master,  and  for  evermore  a 
Lord. 

When  I  read  the  story  of  this  Christ  I  see  Him 
to  be  not  merely  the  Highest  and  the  Best  in  a 
long  line  of  saintly  souls,  but  standing  out  above 
all   other  men,   in   character    absolutely    unique. 


84         "WHAT  THINK  YE   OF  CHRIST?" 

I  cannot  but  see  that  His  absolute  sinlessness 
is  a  glory  that  none  else  can  share,  and  is  sufficient 
of  itself  to  place  Him  far  outside  the  circle  of  mere 
humanity.  I  cannot  but  remember  next  that  this 
pure,  sinless  one  declared  Himself  to  be  the  very 
Son  of  God.  But  such  a  claim,  unless  it  were  the 
simple  truth,  could  not  have  been  made  by  such  a 
one  as  He  ;  could  only  have  been  the  raving  of  a 
fanatic,  self-deluded  and  vain.  I  listen  to  Him 
saying,  "  No  man  cometh  to  the  Father  but  by 
Me";  and  I  ask,  Who  then  is  this  that  claims  a 
place  in  the  universe  such  as  that  ?  No  higher 
claim  was  ever  made  by  human  lip;  and  if  the 
claim  was  not  warranted  by  truth,  then  He  who 
made  it  was  only  an  impostor  after  all.  I  cannot 
forget,  either,  how  He  made  Himself  the  court  of 
last  appeal,  saying,  "  I  am  the  Truth  "  ;  and  how 
He  died  for  this  crime  only,  that  He  ''  made  Him- 
self to  be  equal  ivith  God.''  As  I  think  of  all  ithis 
there  is  but  one  conclusion  possible.  Either  He 
was  infinitely  more  than  the  "  best  of  men,"  or 
He  was  greatly,  disappointingly,  less.  Less  He 
certainly  was  not.  Therefore  more  He  must  have 
been.  Unless  I  can  worship  this  Jesus  I  cannot 
reverence  Him  as  the  best  of  men.  Unless  I  can 
give  Him  my  adoration  I  cannot  give  Him  my 
respect.  But,  like  Thomas,  I  fall  at  His  feet  and 
say,  "  My  Lord  and  my  God.'' 

Looking   steadily,   then,   at    my    great    Master 
to-day,  I  would  ask  myself  what  kind  of  Christ  He 


"WHAT  THINK  YE   OF   CHRIST?"        85 

is  to  me.  I  would  also  ask  what  kind  of  witness  I 
am  to  Him  when  He  calls  for  my  testimony  to 
Him,  and  asks  whether  that  testimony  is  borne  by 
my  lips  alone,  or  by  my  life  as  well.  "  What  dost 
thou  say  I  am  to  thee  ?  and  how  art  thou  saying 
it  ?  Dost  thou  say  it  secretly,  as  if  it  were  a  thing 
of  which  thou  art  half  ashamed  ?  or  dost  thou  say 
it  openly,  with  the  joyous  tone  of  one  who  glories 
in  confessing  it  ?  Does  thy  whole  life  say,  and  say 
unmistakably,  '  This  Christ  is  my  Eedeemer  and 
my  King?'"  Let  me  look  honestly  at  all  the 
outgoings  of  my  daily  life,  and  ask  whether  they 
are  in  any  worthy  degree  a  living  testimony  to 
Him.  What  am  I  the  better  for  having  Him 
as  my  acknowledged  Lord?  What  is  He  the 
better  for  having  me  as  His  acknowledged  disciple  ? 
Is  He  a  real  living  Christ,  in  me  who  am  a 
real  living  man  ?  Is  He  a  Christ  whose  image 
can  be  seen  in  me,  and  whom,  through  me,  the 
world  can  better  believe  in,  and  better  love  ? 

My  own  personal  experience  of  Christ  is  the 
only  thing  that  will  enable  me  to  bear  effective 
witness  to  Him.  No  man  can  have  another 
man's  Christ ;  and  no  man  can  live  upon  another 
man's  experience  of  Christ.  God's  Christ  must 
be  a  Christ  to  vie  as  though  He  had  never  been  a 
Christ  to  any  one  else ;  and  He  must  be  a  living, 
indwelling  Christ,  and  not  an  historical  Christ 
alone,  if  He  is  to  be  my  reigning  King.  Let 
my   testimony  to   Him  not   be   a   thing  reserved 


86         ''WHAT  THINK  YE  OF  CHRIST?" 

for  high  occasions,  but  a  daily  thing.  Even 
Peter's  noble  confession  of  his  Lord  was  too 
soon  belied  by  cowardly  denials.  How  could 
the  man  who  cried  out  so  enthusiastically,  *'  Thou 
art  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  living  God,"  a 
few  months  afterwards  say,  "  I  know  not  the 
man"  !  Mine  be  a  heart  that  will  beat  truer  to 
my  Lord  than  that.  Mine  therefore  be  the  daily 
prayer,  '*  Hold  Thou  me  up,  and  I  shall  be  safe." 


XIII 
THE    CIRCUMSPECTION    OF   THE   FREE 

"What  thinkest  thou,  Simon?  of  whom  do  the  kings  of  the 
earth  take  custom  or  tribute  ?  of  their  own  children  or  of 
strangers  ?  " — Matthew  xvii.  25. 

No  one  can  read  the  story  in  which  this  question 
Hes  without  a  feeling  of  profoundest  reverence  for 
the  great  Master's  deep  humihty,  and  also  for  His 
tenderness  to  those  that  were  blind  to  His  glory. 
It  is  not  merely  His  humiliation  that  is  here  ;  it 
is  His  humility  when  enduring  the  humiliation. 
"  Though  He  was  rich,  yet  for  our  sakes  He 
became  poor,"  so  poor  that  He  had  not  enough 
even  to  pay  the  small  temple-tax  ;  and  that  was 
wonderful.  But  He  did  not  complain  of  His 
poverty,  or  feel  it  hard  that  He  should  have  to 
suffer  so ;  and  that  was  more  wonderful  still. 
Then,  too,  when  Peter,  in  his  usual  thoughtlessly 
impulsive  way,  had  almost  compromised  his  Master, 
his  Master  did  not  compromise  liim  or  show  him 

87 


88    ^HE  CIRCUMSPECTION  OF  THE  FREE 

up.  He  did  not  so  much  as  rebuke  him  for  his 
hastiness,  and  tell  him  that  he  could  not  have 
pondered  much  his  own  recent  confession,  ''  Thou 
art  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  living  God,"  else  he 
would  have  seen  the  inconsistency  between  such  a 
confession,  and  the  answer  he  had  just  been  giving 
to  the  collector  of  the  temple-tax.  The  meek  and 
lowly  Lord  only  asked  him  gently,  when  he  came 
into  the  house,  "  Do  kings  levy  taxes  upon  their 
own  children,  or  upon  strangers  ?  Should  not  the 
children  be  free  ?  " 

I  cannot  but  like  Peter  for  being  so  jealous  of 
his  Master's  honour.  "  Doth  not  your  Teacher 
pay  the  temple-tax?"  they  said.  It  was  not  an 
ensnaring  question,  like  many  others.  It  was 
purely  official,  and  even  courteous  in  its  tone,  for 
they  may  have  supposed  this  Teacher  claimed  to  be 
exempt,  as  the  Rabbis  generally  did  ;  and  Peter 
answered  off-hand,  ''  Of  course  He  does,  for  He 
does  everything  that  is  right."  But  he  had  much 
to  learn  about  his  Master  still.  He  needed  to  be 
taught  the  divine  dignity  of  his  Lord,  as  he  had 
not  apprehended  it  yet.  So,  very  gently,  Jesus 
asks  him,  "What  thinkest  thou,  Simon?  is  it 
fitting  that  He  who  is  the  Lord  of  the  temple,  of 
whom  the  whole  temple  speaks,  should  be  asked  to 
pay  dues  for  the  service  of  the  temple  ?  and  could 
He  who  came  to  be  Himself  the  ransom  for  all 
other  souls  be  asked  to  pay  what  meant  a  ransom 
for  His  own?"     And  yet  He  did  it;  and,  in   so 


THE  CIRCUMSPECTION  OF  THE  FREE    89 

doing,  placed  Himself  again,  where,  at  His  baptism 
by  John,  He  had  placed  Himself  already,  in  the 
position  of  a  sinner,  one  of  the  sinful  race  He  came 
to  save  !  It  was  profound  humility  this — taking 
upon  Himself  all  the  humiliations  of  the  law,  to 
**  redeem  them  that  were  under  the  law  " — willing 
to  be  reckoned  among  sinners  if  He  could  thereby 
take  any  stumbhng-stone  out  of  a  sinner's  way,  or 
get,  by  that  means,  a  readier  access  to  a  sinner's 
heart.  "  They  do  not  understand,"  He  said,  "  that 
I  am  really  Lord  of  all;  and  if  I  were  to  claim 
exemption  on  that  ground,  they  would  only  say  I 
was  giving  a  fanatical  excuse,  and  was  really 
irreligiously  indifferent  to  the  honour  of  God ;  so, 
lest  we  should  cause  them  to  stumble  and  mis- 
conceive, go  thou  to  the  sea,  and  find  there  the  tax- 
money  for  Me  and  thee." 

I  must  ponder  this  wonderful  "lest  we  offend 
them."  It  explains  the  whole  life  of  my  wonderful 
Master  ;  for  that  life  was,  from  first  to  last,  a  giving 
up  of  His  divine  rights,  a  willing  sacrifice  of  all 
that  He  might  have  claimed  as  His  due,  in  order 
to  become,  through  self-renunciation,  a  Saviour  of 
the  lost.  So  He  is  here,  by  His  example,  teaching 
me  that,  in  my  relations  with  other  men,  I  am  not 
to  think  simply  of  my  own  rights,  but  to  consider 
how  insistence  on  my  rights  may  injure  those  who 
neither  understand  me,  nor  sympathise  with  me 
in  my  claims.  I  am  to  think,  not  only  of  the 
inherent  lawfulness  of  many  things  I  do,  but  also 


90    THE   CIRCUMSPECTION   OF  THE  FRElE 

of  the  possible  harm  they  may  do  to  less  instructed 
or  prejudiced  men  at  my  side.  My  liberty,  as  a 
child  of  God,  whom  ''the  Son  hath  made  free," 
may  give  me,  in  a  hundred  things,  the  right  to  do 
what  for  the  sake  of  others,  I  must  forbear  to  do. 
It  can  never  be  the  only  question  for  me,  "Is  this 
lawful  in  itself?";  I  am  bound  to  add  another 
question,  "  Will  it  injure,  in  any  way,  those  who 
see  me  do  it?"  Some  one  has  well  said  that 
"  thousands  do  harm  by  the  use  of  unlawful 
things ;  but  tens  of  thousands  by  the  unwise  use  of 
lawful  things  "  ;  for  nowhere  does  the  devil  build 
his  little  chapels  more  cunningly  than  close  under 
the  shadow  of  the  great  temple  of  Christian  liberty. 
A  thing  in  itself  completely  right  and  good,  may 
be,  in  its  effects  on  others,  completely  evil ;  and 
therefore,  for  me  a  Christian,  completely  wrong. 

I  am  not  to  torment  myself  with  unnecessary 
scruples  and  imaginary  sins  :  but  if  I  am  ever 
in  danger  of  "  letting  my  good  be  evil  spoken  of  " ; 
if  I  care  only  for  the  abstract  truth  of  things,  and 
become  so  indifferent  to  an  "  appearance  of  evil " 
that  my  indifference  leads  others  astray,  I  am 
bound  to  surrender  my  liberty.  My  right  must 
not  lead  others  wrong.  No  man  "liveth  to  him- 
self "  alone;  and  no  man  is  to  "  put  a  stumbling- 
stone  in  his  brother's  way,"  even  though  he  him- 
self is  agile  enough  to  over-leap  it :  for  his  weaker 
brother  may  attempt  the  leap  and  fall. 

So,  then,  when  the  Master  said,  "  If  any  man 


THE  CIRCUMSPECTION  OP  THE  FREE    91 

will  come  after  Me,  let  him  deny  himself,"  I  think 
He  meant  not  only  "  Let  him  deny  his  own 
jjassions,''  "  Let  him  deny  his  own  ambitions,^' ^^  Let 
him  deny  his  own  ivill,''  "Let  him  deny  his  own 
ease,''  but  also,  "  Let  him  deny  his  own  rights, 
and  so  be  My  disciple."  Surely  it  ought  to  be  to 
me  a  far  higher  joy  to  walk  in  the  footsteps  of  my 
self-sacrificing  Master,  than  to  gratify  myself.  If  I 
can,  and  do,  give  thanks  for  my  Christian  liberty, 
I  can  give  God  even  higher  thanks  for  His  grace 
that  enables  me  to  give  up  my  liberty,  whenever  I 
can  thereby  remove  a  single  stone  of  prejudice,  or 
misconception,  or  temptation,  from  a  brother's  way. 
I  will  not  surrender  my  conscience  for  any  man, 
but  I  will  gladly  surrender  my  rights,  if,  by  doing 
so,  I  can  better  serve  my  self-forgetting  and  self- 
sacrificing  Lord.  For,  what  is  the  good  of  a 
religion  that  lets  me  look  down  upon  men  who  are 
in  darkness,  and  only  congratulate  myself  that  I 
am  in  the  light?  I  must  have  a  religion  of 
practical  sympathy  with  the  blindness  of  men,  of 
tender  care  for  their  prejudices,  of  love  strong 
enough  to  help  them  to  the  uttermost  against  their 
temptations  and  against  their  sins. 

And  yet  how  slow  I  am  to  feel  as  my  Master 
felt !  How  indignant  I  sometimes  feel  if  my  rights 
are  not  given  me,  if  I  am  not  recognised  and 
appreciated  as  I  think  I  ought  to  be  !  How  easily 
I  stand  upon  my  dignity,  if  I  am  not  treated  with 
due  deference !     How  hard  it  is  for  me  to  be  always 


92    THE  CIRCUMSPECTION  OP  THE  FREE 

clothed  with  humihty,  as  my  great  Master  was ! 
How  little  inclined  I  often  am  to  give  up  what 
ministers  to  my  own  comfort,  or  ease,  for  the  sake 
of  being  helpful  to  the  weaknesses  of  others  ;  or,  to 
'*  seek  not  mine  own  profit,  but  the  profit  of  many, 
that  they  may  be  saved  "  ! 

Perhaps  it  would  help  me  to  settle  many 
doubtful  questions  regarding  matters  affecting  my 
practical  life  were  I  to  bring  them  to  such  a  test 
as  Christ's  example  here  ;  and  to  ask,  not  simply, 
*'  Can  I  do  this  without  any  harm  to  myself  ?  "  but, 
*'Can  I  doit  without  harm  to  others?"  What 
would  my  own  honest  verdict  on  my  daily  life  be, 
if  I  were  to  lay  it  alongside  of  the  example  and 
precepts  of  my  Master,  and  by  that  high  standard 
judge  what  its  character  and  complexion  really  are  ? 
Let  me  learn  to  weigh  everything  in  His  perfect 
balance — my  business  and  my  recreation ;  my 
getting  and  my  spending;  my  reading  and  my 
conversation ;  my  food  and  my  drink ;  my  enter- 
tainments and  my  dress  ;  my  public  life,  my  social 
life,  my  domestic  life,  my  private  life ;  my  friend- 
ships and  my  correspondence;  my  speaking  and 
my  listening ;  the  glances  of  my  eye,  the  tones  of 
my  voice ;  my  words  to  others,  my  words  about 
others ;  my  silence  as  well  as  my  speech.  Let  me 
faithfully  test  all  this,  asking  whether  it  is,  all  of 
it,  "  to  the  glory  of  God,"  as  was  everything,  how- 
ever small,  that  my  Master  did.  '•^  All  to  the 
glory  of  God!'' — What  a  grand  idea!     What  a 


THE   CIRCUMSPECTION  OF  THE  FREE    93 

magnificent  thought,  that  I  can  add  to  the  glory  of 
God  by  my  obedience  and  my  self-sacrifice,  even  in 
trivial  things  !  But,  "  all  to  the  glory  of  God !  " — 
What  a  thunderbolt  that  is,  to  be  sent  crashing 
through  my  self-pleasings,  overturning  everything 
that  stands  in  its  way  ! 

"IIow  shall  I  follow  Him  I  serve? 

How  shall  I  follow  Him  I  love  ? 
Nor  from  those  blessed  footsteps  swerve, 

Which  lead  me  to  His  seat  above  ? 
To  fault,  to  grieve,  to  die  for  me 

Thou  camest — not  Thyself  to  please — 
And,  dear  as  earthly  comforts  be. 

Shall  I  not  love  Thee  more  than  these  ?  " 


XIV 
DIVINE  SHEPHEEDHOOD 

"  How  think  ye  ?  If  a  man  have  an  hundred  sheep,  and  one  of 
them  be  gone  astray,  doth  he  not  leave  the  ninety  and  nine,  and 
goeth  into  the  mountains,  and  seeketh  that  which  is  gone  astray  ?  " — 
Matthew  xviii.  12. 

Some  of  the  Master's  most  beautiful  and  most  touch- 
ing words  sprang  out  of  what  was  causing  Him  the 
deepest  pain.  The  bruising  of  Hig  spirit  only 
made  it  exhale  its  sweetest  perfume  on  all  around. 
The  pain  that  produced  this  exquisite  parable  of 
Divine  Love  was  occasioned  by  that  unsubdued 
pride  in  His  disciples  which  made  them  eager  for 
pre-eminence  in  place  and  power;  wanting  to  know 
which  of  them  would  be  highest  in  the  kingdom 
He  had  been  telling  them  of.  Jesus,  casting  His 
eye  over  the  ceaseless,  foolish  strifes  of  men,  and 
this  new  illustration  of  them,  seemed  to  be  saying 
to  Himself,  ' '  What  a  world  it  is !  What  a  selfish 
world  !  What  a  proud  world,  too ;  every  one  tramp- 
ling others  down,  to  get  a  little  higher  up!  Even 

94 


DIVINE  SHEPHERDHOOD  95 

My  own  disciples  no  better  than  the  rest !  "  It 
went  to  His  heart  to  see  it.  So,  to  shame  them  out 
of  it,  He  began  by  setting  a  little  child  in  their 
midst,  and  saying,  "  You  want  to  be  high?  Well, 
then,  be  as  low  as  this  little  child"  ;  and  then,  to 
bring  them  down  from  their  pride  still  more.  He 
lifted  for  a  moment  the  veil  that  hung  between  them 
and  the  invisible  world,  and  showed  them  the 
highest  and  holiest  of  created  beings,  serving  joy- 
fully and  humbly  the  very  weakest  of  the  world 
below  them  ;  and  He  finished  by  telling  them  again 
how  He,  the  Lord  of  angels,  had  come  to  men  just 
to  do  the  same — to  humble  Himself  for  the  seeking 
and  saving  of  the  lost.  "  You  are  seeking  to  be 
great,"  He  says,  "  remember  that  the  greatest  is 
the  lowliest  and  most  self-effacing  of  all." 

My  Lord  is  leading  me  here  into  a  ''great 
deep,"  His  own  heart  of  grace.  He  is  bidding  me 
think  of  two  marvels  of  that  grace,  the  wonder  of 
which  only  grows  the  longer  I  meditate  upon  them. 
His  utter  lowliness,  and  His  infinite  love.  If  there 
be  any  truth  in  the  idea  that  this  poor  earth  of  ours  is 
the  only  one  of  all  the  million  orbs  of  the  sky  that 
sin  has  wrecked,  I  can  see  one  reason,  at  least,  why 
"  He  took  not  on  Him  the  nature  of  angels,"  but 
"was  found  in  fashion  as  a  man."  He  was 
leaving  the  ninety  and  nine  worlds  that  were  sin- 
less and  sheltered  and  safe,  to  go  after  the  one 
wanderer,  the  one  that  needed  Him  most.  He 
"  came,   not    to     be    ministered     unto,    but    to 


96  DIVINE  SHEPHERDHOOD 

minister";  and  therefore  He  came  not  to  any 
world  that  was  sinless,  but  to  the  world  that  was 
"  lost  " — not  to  the  largest  world,  but  to  the  world 
which  had  the  largest  need :  and  He  thought 
nothing  too  hard,  and  nothing  too  humiliating  to 
do  for  the  saving  of  it.  This  was  His  own  all-suffi- 
cient reason  for  the  Incarnation,  and  all  that 
followed  it.  He  was  *'  humbling  Himself,  even  to 
death,"  for  the  saving  of  the  lost.  Divine  love  is 
humble  love.  It  is  the  humblest  of  all  love ; 
humbler,  even,  than  a  mother's  love.  It  is  a  love 
that  can  die  gladly  for  the  most  unworthy  child ;  a 
love  that  can  take  the  poor,  degraded,  ruined  one 
to  its  breast,  even  when,  with  all  the  energy  of  a 
rebellious  nature,  that  lost  one  is  spurning  the  love 
away,  and  saying  to  the  tenderest  Heart  in  all  the 
universe,  "  Get  thee  hence."  The  only  adequate 
measure  of  love  is  the  sacrifice  the  love  will  make. 
The  highest  form  of  love  is  love  unto  death  ;  and 
the  grandest  illustration  of  love,  in  its  intensity  of 
self-sacrifice,  was  that  given  all  along  by  Jesus  of 
Nazareth ;  so  that  the  beautiful  idea  of  an  old 
German  mystic  is  strictly  true,  "I  seem  to  see  a 
rich  vessel,  laden  with  the  love  of  God,  sailing  for 
thousands  of  years  across  the  world's  sea,  till  at 
last  it  anchors  in  the  harbour  of  Bethlehem,  and 
discharges  all  its  treasures  on  the  hill  of  Calvary." 
The  wonderful  thing  about  this  Shepherd's  love 
for  the  wandered  sheep  was  that  He  was  seeking 
them   while  they  were  not    seeking   Him — when 


DIVINE  SHEPHERDHOOD  97 

there  was  not  even  a  feeble  cry  for  help,  for  they 
did  not  know  that  they  were  lost.  He  sought 
them,  not  when  they  were  repenting,  ashamed, 
afraid,  but  when  they  were  still  wandering  farther 
and  farther  astray.  He  went  out  seeking  them  in 
all  sorts  of  places,  by  all  sorts  of  means  ;  and  He 
sought  them  one  by  one.  It  mattered  nothing  to 
Him  what  kind  of  sheep  they  were.  I  do  not  hear 
Him  say,  "  What  man  of  you,  having  a  hundred 
sheep,  if  he  lose  tlie  best  of  them,  doth  not  go  after 
it?"  He  went,  with  equal  eagerness,  after  the  very 
worst.  He  did  not  say,  "It  is  only  one,  and  will 
never  be  missed."  Any  one  was  as  dear  to  Him  as 
the  other  ninety-nine.  And  it  was  not  the  loss  as 
felt  by  the  sheep,  but  His  own  loss  that  moved  Him 
to  the  search.  The  wandering  of  even  one  brought 
a  pang  to  His  own  heart,  which  seemed  to  have  its 
origin  in  a  keen  sense  of  missing  what  had  been 
precious  to  Him.  It  is  really  in  this  feeling  of  loss 
on  the  part  of  God  that  I  find  the  explanation  of 
the  great  sacrifice  He  made,  in  the  gift  of  His  Son, 
to  have  that  loss  repaired.  When  man  fell  away 
from  Him,  He  missed  what  had  been  His  joy — the 
praise  and  honour  of  human  lives,  the  affection  of 
human  hearts  ;  and  the  whole  mission  of  His  dear 
Son  was  just  one  long  echo  of  the  words,  "  How 
shall  I  give  thee  up,  Ephraim  ?  How  shall  I  deliver 
thee,  Israel  ?  My  heart  is  turned  within  Me ;  My 
repentings  are  kindled  together."  Does  not  the 
sense  of  loss  at  the  beginning  of  the  search  corre- 


98  DIVINE   SHEPHERDHOOD 

spond  emphatically  to  the  joy  at  its  successful 
close  ?  "  Yerily  I  say  unto  j'^ou  He  rejoiceth  more 
over  that  one  sheep  than  over  the  ninety  and  nine 
that  never  strayed."  He  loves  it  now  all  the  more 
for  the  pain  He  had  to  find  it.  How  deep  my 
Master  here  lets  me  look  into  His  very  heart !  He 
seems  to  say  that  infinite  love  will  go  to  any 
distance,  and  endure  any  toil,  for  the  saving  of  one 
sheep — that  Almighty  Power  will  think  its  utmost 
expenditure  of  power  both  recompensed  and 
glorified  by  the  saving  of  one  sheej). 

Then,  too,  when  He  finds  the  poor  lost  one  half 
dead.  He  does  not  beat  it  for  having  strayed  ;  He 
does  not  simply  lift  it  to  its  feet  and  leave  it  to 
find  its  own  way  back  ;  He  knows  that  no  sheep 
ever  finds  its  oivn  way  bach.  It  can  wander,  but  it 
cannot  return.  Still  less,  does  He  angrily  di^ive  it 
home.  He  lays  it  upon  His  shoulder  and  carries 
it  the  whole  way  home.  Weary  Himself,  He  lifts 
it,  and  returns  triumphantly  with  the  lost  one  in 
His  arms. 

It  may  well  thrill  my  heart  to  remember  how  I 
was  once  a  lost  sheep — foolishly,  yet  utterly,  lost — 
and  how  the  Lord  of  love  came  seeking  ine,  and 
found  me,  and  lifted  me  with  His  strong  hand  so 
that  I  am  now  at  home  again,  and  safe.  Let  me 
praise  my  Shepherd  for  all  that  He  has  done,  and 
praise  Him,  also,  for  all  that  He  is  going  to  do  to 
keep  His  recovered  one,  and  feed  it  till  it  gains  new 
strength  to  follow  Him  without  wandering  any  more. 


DIVINE  SHEPHERDHOOD  99 

But  let  me  think,  also,  of  my  great  Shepherd- 
Master  as  an  example  to  myself :  for  the  work  He 
gives  me  to  do  is  just  His  own  work — to  seek  and 
save  the  lost  sheep  round  me,  one  by  one.  He 
never  spoke  of  "lapsed  masses."  He  spoke  of 
''lost  souls."  His  love  was  an  individualising 
love,  and  His  methods  were  individualising  too. 
I  do  not  read  of  many  conversions  through  His 
discourses  to  the  multitudes  (though  there  must 
have  been  such),  but  I  read  of  conversions  when 
He  spoke  to  one  Nathanael  near  his  lig-tree;  to 
one  Nicodemus  in  the  garden  privacy  ;  to  one  Levi 
at  the  seat  of  custom ;  to  one  Samaritan  woman  at 
Jacob's  well ;  to  one  Zaccheus  at  Jericho.  Perhaps 
I  can  imitate  Him  best  by  taking  a  way  like  this ; 
having  first  of  all,  an  intenser  pity  for  the  lost, 
and  next,  a  hopeful  earnestness  in  seeking  them, 
"  despairing  of  none." 

There  may  be  some  lost  ones  in  my  own  family, 
or  among  my  dear  and  intimate  friends,  loving  and 
kind,  but,  for  all  that,  strangers  to  the  renewing 
grace  of  God,  and  therefore  "  lost."  There  may  be 
others  living  in  close  neighbourhood  to  me, 
meeting  me  every  day,  talking  with  me,  united  to 
me  by  a  thousand  different  interests,  yet  plainly 
living  "  without  Christ,"  and  therefore  "  lost."  Do 
I  seek  to  save  any  of  these  lost  ones  whom  I  know 
so  well  ?  Do  I  ever  let  them  see  that  I  am  con- 
cerned about  their  souls  ?  or  do  I  maintain,  on  the 
highest   of   all  matters,  a  silence  deep  as  death? 


100  DIVINE  SHEPHERDHOOD 

Am  I  afraid  to  speak  ?  Am  I  ashamed  to  speak  ? 
Am  I  delaying  to  speak  till  some  better  moment 
comes  ?  What,  then,  if  a  pang  of  unavailing 
remorse  should  seize  me  at  the  last,  when  they 
have  gone  for  ever  from  my  side,  and  I  can  only 
reproach  myself  for  having  been  so  unlike  my 
Master  in  seeking  to  save  ?  "  Deliver  me  from 
blood-guiltiness,  0  God!" 


XV 

SMALL  BEGINNINGS  AND   GEEAT 
ENDINGS 

"  Because  I  said  unto  thee,  I  saw  thee  under  the  fig-tree,  believest 
thou  ?  thou  shalt  see  greater  things  than  these." — John  i.  50. 

KiGHTLY  to  understand  the  meaning  of  this  question 
to  Nathanael,  I  must  look  at  what  can  be  gleaned 
of  the  spiritual  history  of  the  man  to  whom  it  was 
addressed.  It  is  clear  that  a  long  secret  preparation 
for  welcoming  the  Christ  had  been  going  on  in 
Nathanael's  heart.  He  had  long  been  a  devout 
student  of  the  Scriptures ;  a  man,  too,  of  much 
prayer ;  a  man  accustomed  to  deep  heart  search- 
ings,  that  he  might  be  absolutely  sincere  in  his 
personal  walk  with  God ;  a  man,  therefore,  com- 
pletely open  to  the  truth,  and  waiting  for  it.  But, 
in  addition  to  that,  he  had  very  recently  been 
passing  through  an  experience  more  than  ordinarily 
deep  ;  laying  bare  to  God,  with  more  than  usual 
fervency  the  innermost  secrets  of  his   soul :    and 

101 


102  SMALL  BEGINNINGS  AND 

this  had  been  so  entirely  a  secret  between  himself 
and  God,  that,  when  Jesus  said,  "  When  thou  wast 
under  the  fig-tree,  I  saw  thee,"  there  instantly 
flashed  upon  him  the  conviction  that  the  Eeader 
of  the  heart  was  there.  These  words  of  Jesus 
were  like  a  telegraphic  cypher,  unintelligible  to  all 
else,  but  full  of  deep  meaning  for  him. 

The  key  to  that  secret  experience  of  his  is  given 
in  the  words  "  Behold !  an  Israelite  indeed,  in 
whom  is  no  guile."  Under  the  fig-tree's  friendly 
shade,  secure  from  observation,  he  had  evidently 
been  laying  bare  his  whole  heart  to  God,  and 
asking  from  Him  some  token  of  peace.  Perhaps, 
devout  reader  of  the  Scriptures  as  he  was,  he 
may  have  been  meditating  on  the  thirty-second 
Psalm,  **  Blessed  is  he  whose  transgression  is 
forgiven,  whose  sin  is  covered,  to  whom  the  Lord 
imputeth  not  transgression,  and  in  tvJiose  spirit 
there  is  7io  guile  "  ;  and  saying  to  himself  ''  Oh,  that 
this  blessedness  were  mine  !  "  If,  then,  I  may 
suppose  that  just  when  he  had  been  saying  so  to 
himself,  he  was  suddenly  interrupted  by  Philip 
coming  to  him,  and  calling  him  to  see  the  very 
Christ  they  had  both  been  long  looking  for,  how 
amazed  he  must  have  been  that  the  first  greeting 
of  Jesus  took  up  the  broken  thread  of  his  unspoken 
thoughts,  and  told  him  that  what  he  so  longed  for 
was  already  his  !  "  How  knowest  thou  me  to  be 
an  Israelite  indeed,  in  whom  is  no  guile?"  "I 
saw  thee  under  the  fig-tree."     That  was  enough. 


GREAT  ENDINGS  103 

The  whole  truth  flashed  upon  him  in  a  moment 
then — "  this  Reader  of  my  most  secret  thoughts 
must  verily  be  the  Christ." 

Fittest  type,  surely,  this  man,  of  the  kind  of 
disciples  the  Master  not  only  receives,  but  rejoices 
over,  when  they  come  and  follow  Him.  The 
precipitancy  of  his  hasty  word  to  Philip,  "  Can  any 
good  thing  come  out  of  Nazareth  ?  "  was  redeemed 
from  its  error  by  its  very  sincerity.  It  was  due  to 
Philip's  own  mistake ;  and  if  it  was  an  error  of 
education  and  prejudice  more  than  anything  else, 
it  did  not  deepen  into  the  sin  of  offence  and 
rejection,  as  it  did  in  so  many  other  men ;  for  he 
was  sincere  to  the  very  core,  a  genuine  truth- 
lover,  who,  welcoming  first  the  truth  about  himself, 
was  soon  rewarded  by  learning  the  truth  about  his 
Saviour  too. 

Nathanael's  open  confession  of  the  Lord  followed 
close  upon  the  Lord's  open  confession  of  him. 
Christ  made  no  secret  of  His  opinion  of  this  disciple  ; 
and  the  disciple  made  no  secret  of  his  opinion  of 
Christ.  I  think  there  was  something  beautifully 
significant,  too,  in  the  fact  that  Jesus  did  not  go 
to  seek  Nathanael  under  the  dark  shadow  of  his 
fig-tree,  but  waited  till  they  both  stood  in  the 
sunshine,  that  there  He  might  reveal  Himself  as 
the  Light  of  Life.  Whosoever  seeks  Christ  in  the 
darkness,  will  find  Him  in  the  light.  Whosoever 
prays  in  secret  to  Him  who  seeth  in  secret,  will  find 
the  Father  reward  him  openly. 


104  SMALL  BEGINNINGS  AND 

And  how  does  Christ  reward  this  "  helievest 
thou  ?  "  He  says  "  Thou  shalt  see, "and  ''  see  greater 
things  than  these."  TJiis  was  the  first  promise 
Jesus  ever  gave  to  any  man,  and  it  really  embraces 
all  He  can  teach  any  man  still ;  but  it  was  given, 
not  to  the  most  talented,  or  intellectual,  or  pro- 
found of  His  disciples,  but  to  the  most  simple- 
hearted  of  them  all.  Is  not  that  always  the 
Master's  way  ?  He  manifests  Himself  most  fully  to 
those  that  manifest  themselves  most  fully  to  Him. 
He  lays  open  His  secrets  to  those  that  most  per- 
fectly lay  open  theirs.  Those  who  have  an  opened 
heart  will  soon  have  also  the  opened  eye. 

The  Lord  seems  here  to  be  promising  to  all  such 
simple  and  guileless  hearts  a  larger  discovery  of 
the  wonders  of  His  grace  in  the  new  region  they 
have  only  begun  to  explore.  "  Believest  thou  that 
I  am  the  Omniscient  One,  able  to  read  the  secrets 
that  lie  within  ?  Thou  shalt  see  Me  to  be  also  the 
Omnipotent  One,  able  to  unfold  the  secrets  that 
lie  without.  Thou  hast  been  showing  Me  thy 
opened  heart ;  I  will  show  thee  My  opened  heaven. 
Thou  hast  been  confessing  evil  things  in  thyself ; 
thou  shalt  see  gracious  things  in  Me.  Thou  hast 
been  discovering  worse  and  worse  things  in  thyself ; 
thou  shalt  see  better  and  better  things  in  Me : 
thou  shalt  see  that,  in  Me,  earth  and  heaven  are 
no  longer  two,  but  one  ;  where  I  am,  there  is  '  the 
house  of  God,  and  the  gate  of  heaven  ' ;  by  Me 
the  angels  of  prayer  and  praise  are  ever  going  up ; 


GREAT  ENDINGS  105 

by  Me,  the  angels  of  grace  and  blessing  are  ever 
coming  down."  The  Lord,  therefore,  is  here 
teaching  me  that  though  faith  must  always  go 
before  sight,  it  is  sure  to  be  rewarded  by  sight  ere 
long;  that,  if  I  begin  with  the  ''believing,"  the 
*'  seeing  "  will  come.  I  will  be  able  to  speak  from 
experience  soon  of  the  things  I  begin  by  taking 
upon  trust.  Believing  on  the  testimony  of  One 
who  does  see,  I  shall  see  for  myself. 

It  was  the  powder  of  Jesus  to  read  the  heart  that 
led  Nathanael  to  the  conviction  that  He  was  the 
Son  of  God.  It  is  the  power  of  the  Scriptures  to 
search  my  heart  that  convinces  me  that  they  are 
the  Divine  Word  of  God.  No  other  argument  is 
so  sufficient  as  that.  This  is  a  book  that,  like  no 
other,  searches  me  through  and  through,  probes  me 
to  the  bottom,  lays  me  bare.  It  seems  to  know  all 
about  me,  for  it  writes  down  all  my  experiences ; 
it  utters  all  my  feelings ;  it  shows  me  what  I  am. 
I  need  nothing  more  to  convince  me  that  it  is  God 
Himself  who  speaks  of  me,  and  speaks  to  me  here. 
I  read  it  with  amazement  first,  but  soon  I  read  it 
with  more  than  amazement;  with  thankfulness 
and  joy.  For,  if  it  begins  with  showing  me  my 
sins,  it  soon  shows  me  "  greater  things  than  these." 
I  am  taught  by  this  heart-searching  Word  what  it 
is  that  I,  a  sinner,  need — what  it  is  I  am  half  un- 
consciously seeking  for  ;  and  soon  I  discover  that 
what  I  need  is  a  Saviour,  and  that  in  the  saving 
Christ  of  whom  it  tells,  all  I  need,  and  all  I   am 


106  SMALL  BEGINNINGS  AND 

longing  for  is  found.  It  speaks  to  me  of  pardon  ; 
it  brings  to  me  the  message  of  peace  ;  it  opens 
heaven  itself  to  my  wondering  eyes ;  and  the 
farther  on  I  go,  I  am  always  finding  in  it  "  greater 
things"  than  at  the  first  I  could  have  believed  it 
possible  for  me  to  know.  Once  I  could  not  see 
how  any  real  intercourse  between  me  and  God 
could  come.  To  reach  God  seemed  impossible. 
Strive  as  I  might,  I  could  only  struggle  upwards 
to  Him  a  little  way,  for  my  ladder  of  endeavour 
had  so  many  broken  steps  that  my  further  progress 
was  barred.  It  was  equally  a  mystery  to  me  how 
God  the  Holy  One  could  have  any  intercourse  with 
me.  But  I  see  it  now,  for  this  book  tells  me  of 
the  "  Son  of  Man,"  who  is  Himself  the  perfect 
ladder  joining  earth  to  heaven.  He  is  the  one 
medium  of  communication  between  the  two  — 
between  earthly  need  and  heavenly  aid.  By  Him 
I  ascend  to  God.  By  Him  God  descends  to  me. 
By  Him  my  prayers,  like  angel  messengers,  go  up. 
By  Him  the  angels  of  grace,  and  power,  and 
peace,  come  down. 

All  this  I  had  to  take  as  a  matter  of  faith  at 
first,  but  soon  it  became  a  matter  of  experience 
also  ;  and  still,  the  more  I  look,  the  more  I  am 
able  to  see.  Like  the  practised  astronomer,  whose 
disciplined  eye  can  see  a  small  star  in  the  sky, 
where,  to  others,  there  is  only  a  space  of  dark; 
like  the  worker  in  mosaics,  who  can  detect  shades 
of  colour  unappreciable  by  the  unskilled ;  like  the 


GREAT  ENDINGS  107 

Laplander,  who  can  easily  distinguish  a  white  fox 
upon  the  snow  ;  or  like  the  sailor,  who  can  recog- 
nise a  distant  ship  where  the  landsman  sees  not 
even  a  spot  on  the  horizon's  edge,  I  get  something 
like  a  new  power  of  sight  from  the  practice  of  the 
feeble  seeing  with  which  I  begin.  What  once  was 
invisible  becomes  wonderfully  clear.  I  walk  by 
faith,  but  faith  issues  in  a  larger  sight.  This  is 
the  Master's  way  of  educating  me  for  the  beatific 
vision  at  the  end — ''Believest  thou?  Thou  shalt 
see  greater  things  than  these." 

I  must  plant  a  Nathanael  fig-tree  beside  my 
house,  wherever  that  house  may  be,  and  under 
the  shade  of  it  have  more  of  Nathanael's  self- 
scrutiny,  and  Nathanael's  prayerfulness.  Let  this 
disciple  assure  me,  from  his  own  experience,  that 
whoever  so  humbleth  himself  shall  be  exalted ; 
and  that  the  Lord  is  more  gracious  to  the  broken 
heart,  than  it  can  itself  believe. 


XVI 

HAEVEST   HOPE 

"  Say  not  ye,  There  are  yet  four  months,  and  then  cometh  harvest  ? 
behold,  I  say  unto  you,  Lift  up  your  eyes,  and  look  on  the  fields ;  for 
they  are  white  already  to  harvest." — John  iv.  35. 

This  was  one  of  the  Lord's  moments  of  joyous 
expectancy.  Early  in  His  great  work  the  Father 
gave  Him  a  poor  Samaritan  sinner's  soul,  as  an 
earnest  of  thousands  yet  to  come.  His  heart  was 
leaping  with  the  gladness  of  hope,  as  He  saw  the 
men  of  Sychar  flocking  out  to  Jacob's  well ;  and 
He  felt  sure  that  the  Father  who  had  sent  Him  to 
"  sow  in  tears"  was  going  to  give  Him  soon  the 
"joy  of  harvest"  too.  It  was  the  month  of 
January.  The  recently-sown  corn  in  the  valley  of 
Shechem  was  already  bursting  the  earth  in  a 
wealth  of  green.  The  disciples,  as  they  came 
along  from  buying  bread,  had  noted  it,  and  had 
been  saying,  one  to  another,  "  Four  months  hence 
there  will  be  a  rich  harvest  here " ;  and  Jesus, 
knowing  this  talk  of  theirs,  said,  "  Yes,  but  I  can 

108 


HARVEST  HOPE  109 

tell  you  of  another  kind  of  seed  that  ripens  even 
faster  than  that.  I  know  of  seed  that  was  sown 
only  to-day,  and  yet,  see!  there  is  the  harvest- 
field  already  white  :  the  crowds  are  coming  out  of 
Sychar  even  now." 

This  saying  of  the  Master's  reminds  me  how 
constantly  He  lived  on  a  far  higher  plane  than  the 
best  of  His  disciples  could  reach.  He  was  always 
moving,  in  thought,  among  the  great  spiritual 
realities,  of  which  things  below  were  only  the 
shadows  and  the  types.  When  they  were  thinking 
of  meat  for  the  body.  He  was  thinking  of,  and 
feasting  on,  a  "meat"  more  blessed  and  more 
sustaining  far ;  while  they  were  talking  about  a 
harvest  of  grain.  He  was  thinking  of  a  harvest  of 
souls.  Tliey  were  like  men  far  down  in  a  valley 
whose  outlook  is  limited  and  poor;  He  was  like 
one  living  on  a  mountain-top,  where  the  horizon  is 
heaven.  Perhaps  one  reason  why  I,  so  often,  do 
not  understand  my  Master  when  He  speaks,  is  this, 
that  He  is  using  His  own  heavenly  language,  the 
grammar  and  even  the  alphabet  of  which  are  still 
half  strange  to  me ;  and  perhaps  one  reason  why  I 
so  poorly  imitate  my  Master  is  that  I  am  not 
accustoming  myself  to  climb  to  that  heavenly 
height  where  He  habitually  lived.  Why  do  I  not 
see  what  my  Master  saw  ?  Is  it  not  because  I  do 
not  rise  high  enough  to  my  Master's  side?  Would 
I  be  so  earthly-minded  if  I  did  ?  Would  I  be  so 
self-pleasing  if  I  did?     Would  I  be  so  disheartened 


110       ■  HARVEST  HOPE 

if  I  did  ?  If  I  could  always  sow,  as  He  did,  with 
faith  and  love  and  hope  like  His,  might  not  I,  too, 
see  my  harvest  the  very  day  the  sowing  was  begun  ? 
1  will  let  Him  take  me  up  to  His  own  mountain  of 
vision  to-day  to  show  me  what  He  sees,  for  He  is 
speaking  for  my  encouragement,  and  very  specially 
for  my  encouragement  when  I  am  seeking  to  be  a 
"  fellow-labourer  with  Him  unto  the  kingdom  of 
God." 

He  tells  me  here  that  no  faithful  sowing  of  the  seed 
of  the  kingdom  can  ever  be  in  vain.  "  God's  seed  is 
sure  to  come  to  God's  harvest,"  even  though  only 
"after  many  days."  I  cast  it  into  the  ground,  and 
go  my  way.  It  is  lost  to  my  view.  For  all  I  can 
tell,  it  may  have  perished.  But  God's  care  of  it 
begins  just  where  my  care  of  it  ends,  and  He  will 
see  to  its  reappearing  in  due  time.  I  have  often 
no  means  of  discovering  the  fruit  of  my  most 
faithful  efforts  and  most  persevering  prayers  for 
other  souls ;  and  when  the  soil  is  poor,  and  the 
season  is  bad,  I  get  sometimes  into  a  mood  of 
depression  that  verges  on  despair.  But  my  Master 
would  have  me  consider  that  though  no  fruit  has 
followed  yet,  and  even  though  none  ivill  follow  it 
so  long  as  I  am  on  earth  to  witness  it,  yet  when  I 
do  see  it,  either  in  the  world  beyond  or  looking 
from  the  world  beyond,  I  may  find  a  harvest  whose 
exceeding  richness  will  be  a  glad  surprise.  It  is 
with  present  duty,  and  not  with  future  results,  that 
I  have  alone  to  do.     This  wise  Master  may  be  only 


HARVEST  HOPE  111 

training  me  to  larger  faith  and  longer  perseverance 
by  denying  me  a  sight  of  the  harvest  I  am  longing 
for.  He  Himself  has  told  me  "  to  pray  and  not  to 
faint,"  to  work,  "  despairing  of  none  "  ;  for  in  the 
sowing  of  heavenly,  just  as  in  the  sowing  of  earthly, 
seed,  "  the  husbandman  must  have  long  patience, 
till  it  receive  both  the  early  and  the  latter  rain.'" 
The  full  harvest  will  not  come  without  them  both; 
and  sometimes  the  "  latter  rain  "  does  what  the 
"  early  rain  "  could  not.  The  early  rain  of  family 
instruction,  in  loving  words  and  quiet  influence, 
may  need  to  be  supplemented  by  a  latter  rain  of 
drenching  afflictions  before  any  real  growth  of  the 
buried  seed  appears.  Long  lying  dormant  through 
the  hot  season  of  unclouded  prosperity,  it  gets  its 
baptism  of  life  when  the  clouds  of  trouble  break 
over  it  in  heavy  floods.  The  appeals  that  were 
unheeded  so  long  as  all  was  bright  are  listened  to 
and  yielded  to  when  the  dark  hour  of  sorrow 
comes.  It  is  wonderful  how  often  God's  seed  is 
quickened  by  falling  tears.  But,  soon  or  late,  the 
harvest  of  the  faithful  sower  is  sure. 

But  my  Lord  encourages  me  by  telling  me  more 
than  that.  He  tells  me  that  I  may  reap  not  only  what 
I  myself  have  sown,  but  what  others  have  sown  long 
before  me ;  that  others  may  reap  what  I  am  sowing 
to-day ;  and  that  though  the  sower  and  the  reaper 
may  never  meet  on  this  side  heaven,  they  shall, 
in  the  great  harvest  day,  "  rejoice  together  "  over 
the  harvest,  in  the  producing  of  which  they  both 


112  HARVEST   HOPE 

had  had  a  share.  And  He  tells  me  yet  again  that 
I  may  get  a  harvest  from  my  own  sowing  sooner 
than  I  think.  At  the  very  moment  when  I  am 
saying  dolefully,  "  Months  yet  must  pass  before 
the  harvest  can  be  mine,"  He  may  be  saying, 
"  Look  !  the  field  is  already  white."  Let  me  take 
home  this  loving  encouragement  from  His  lips. 
He  may  be  seeing  with  joy  the  workings  of  His 
grace  in  souls  that  I  think  completely  dead. 
Where  the  very  utmost  I  can  hope  for  is  that  the 
seed  is  beginning  to  take  root.  He  may  see  that  the 
beginning  was  past  long  ago,  that  the  preparatory 
processes  are  already  finished,  and  that  I  will  reap 
almost  at  once. 

Perhaps  in  my  work  for  God  I  may  be  wronging 
Him,  as  well  as  discouraging  myself,  by  looking 
only  far  ahead  for  fruit.  The  faith  that  can  calmly 
wait  is  good,  but  the  faith  that  can  expect  a  rapid 
ripening  may  be  better  still.  God  is  honoured 
when  I  expect  not  only  great  answers,  but  speedy 
answers  to  my  efforts  and  my  prayers.  Moody 
used  to  say  that  God  never  does  any  great  thing 
by  a  despondent  man.  The  very  largest  hopeful- 
ness is  one  condition  of  success  for  all  labourers  in 
God's  field.  Without  this,  their  work  will  be  only 
a  grievous  burden,  instead  of  being  what  He  means 
it  to  be,  a  glory  and  a  joy.  One  of  these  despond- 
ing sowers  complained  to  Spurgeon  that  he  saw 
almost  no  conversions  through  his  ministry.  "  Do 
you   exjject   conversions   from    every   sermon  you 


HARVEST  HOPE  113 

preach  ?  "  was  the  reply.  "  Oh  no,"  said  the  poor 
worker  ;  '*  I  could  not  venture  to  look  for  anything 
like  that.''  "  Well,  well,"  said  the  great  preacher, 
"  according  to  your  faith,  be  it  unto  you." 
"  Attempt  great  things  for  God,  and  expect  great 
things /ro77i  God,"  was  the  watchword  that  started 
missions  to  India.  But  He  is  honoured  by  a  faith 
that,  when  He  calls  for  service,  goes  immediately 
to  work,  and  looks  for  immediate  as  w^ell  as  great 
success.  If  I  am  looking  to  the  future  at  all  for 
my  harvest,  it  is  rather  a  near  future  than  a  distant 
one  of  which  I  ought  to  think.  Perhaps  the  law 
may  hold  in  my  labour  for  God,  as  in  my  personal 
life  before  Him,  that  I  get  just  what  I  am  working 
for.  If  I  am  working  for  a  late  harvest,  I  will  get 
it ;  but  if  I  am  wor'ki7ig  for  an  early  harvest,  I 
7na7j  get  that  too. 

When  I  am  looking  doubtfully  and  despondingly 
at  my  prospects  of  success,  the  whisper  of  my 
Master  comes  to  me  that  many  a  soul  about  which 
I  am  concerned  may  be  far  more  ready  to  respond 
to  my  appeals  than  I  suppose ;  and  when  I  look 
farther  afield,  over  the  great  unsaved  world,  the 
vast  world  of  heathenism  and  superstition  and 
ignorance  and  cruelty  and  sin,  and  its  millions 
seem  to  me  so  hardened  in  their  indifference  to 
God  that  long  years  of  ploughing  will  be  needed 
to  make  so  much  as  a  beginning  for  the  sowing  of 
His  seed.  He  whispers  to  me  again  to  be  of  good 
courage  and  good  cheer,  for  even  now  there  are 

9 


114  HARVEST  HOPE 

thousands  of  weary  and  heavy-laden  hearts  there 
longing  for  His  rest,  stretching  out  their  hands  in 
their  darkness,  feeling  after  Him,  if  haply  they  may 
find  Him,  and  far  more  ready  to  welcome  His 
messages  of  love  than  my  faint-heartedness  and 
fears  believe.  I  thank  Thee,  oh  my  Master,  for 
these  great  words  of  Thine,  "  The  fields  are  white 
unto  the  harvest  even  now." 


XVII 
WISE    STEWAKDSHIP 

*•  Who  then  is  a  faithful  and  wise  servant,  whom  his  Lord  hath 
made  ruler  over  his  household,  to  give  them  meat  in  due  season?  " 
— Matthew  xxiv.  45. 

"  If  therefore  ye  have  not  been  faithful  in  the  unrighteous  mammon, 
who  will  commit  to  your  trust  the  true  riches  ?  and  if  ye  have  not 
been  faithful  in  that  which  is  another  man's,  who  shall  give  you  that 
which  is  your  own  ?  " — Luke  xvi.  11,  12. 

These  questions  are  all  about  my  stewardship  ; 
and  though  I  have  been  for  long  years  under  the 
teaching  of  my  Lord,  His  lesson  for  me  to-day  is 
as  much  needed  as  ever — that  I  am  not  my  own, 
but  His  ;  not  my  own  master,  but  His  servant 
only ;  not  a  possessor,  but  only  a  steward ;  and 
that  for  even  the  smallest  thing  entrusted  to  me 
He  will  reckon  with  me  soon.  I  often,  like  Peter, 
to  whom  first  my  Master  spoke  these  words,  take 
gladly  enough  His  promises  of  honour  in  His 
kingdom ;  but  all  the  time  give  little  heed  to  the 
warning  that  accompanies  them,  that  unfaithful- 
ness  to   my  stewardship  will    cost  the  losing  of 


116  WISE  STEWARDSHIP 

the  reward.  Not  one  of  the  disciples  needed  that 
warning  more  than  Peter  did  ;  yet  he  was  the  one 
who  heeded  it  the  least.  I  am  too  like  Peter  every 
day.  The  work  of  a  steward  is  responsible  work. 
Life  should  be  more  to  me  than  a  scene  of  easy- 
going self-indulgence.  The  work  of  a  steward  is 
diffictdt  work.  I  need  to  be  wise  as  well  as  faithful 
in  it.  But  it  is  also  blessed  work ;  for  it  will  bring 
me  now  the  sweetest  of  all  satisfactions,  and  here- 
after the  greatest  of  all  rewards.  Let  me,  there- 
fore, think  seriously  of  the  trust  which  this  Master 
has  put  into  my  hands. 

Mtj  oivn  soul  is  a  sacred  trust.  All  that  I  am, 
as  well  as  all  that  I  have,  is  to  be  used  for  Him. 
I  am  bound  to  cultivate  my  soul,  that  it  may  not 
lie  a  waste.  I  am  bound  to  discipline  it,  that  it 
may  not  be  full  of  briars  and  thorns.  I  must  care- 
fully guard  it  from  the  spoiler's  foot.  It  ought  to 
be  a  garden  where  my  Lord  can  walk.  I  am 
bound  to  consecrate  all  its  emotions,  all  its  affec- 
tions, all  its  ambitions,  all  its  endowments,  to 
glorify  and  gladden  Him.  When  I  go  up  to 
render  my  account  He  will  ask  me  what  I  have 
done  with  the  things  He  put  into  my  hands ;  but 
He  will  also  ask  me  what  I  have  done  ivith  myself. 
Could  I  say,  "  Lord,  thou  didst  send  me  forth  with 
a  handful  of  seeds ;  here  is  my  garden  full  of 
flowers  for  Thee  "  ? 

My  souVs  tenement^  the  body,  is  also  a  sacred 
trust.     I  am  to  keep  it  pure  too  :  not  yielding  any 


WISE  STEWARDSHIP  117 

one  of  my  members,  eye  or  ear  or  mouth  or  hand 
or  foot,  a  servant  to  iniquity,  but  to  hohness.  And 
I  am  to  keep  it  strong  as  well  as  pure.  The  laws 
of  health  are  the  laws  of  God ;  and  to  disregard 
them,  even  in  the  pursuit  of  what  is  right  and 
good,  is  sin.  Suicide  does  not  become  guiltless 
because  the  process  may  be  slow.  I  am  to  "  pre- 
sent my  body  a  living  sacrifice,  holy,  and  accept- 
able unto  Him." 

My  eartlily  avocation  is  also  a  sacred  trust ;  and 
I  am  to  engage  in  it  as  responsible  to  Him.  If  I 
cannot  use  it  for  His  glory,  it  is  not  lawful  for 
myself ;  and  if  lawful,  I  am  still  to  feel  that  I 
can  lawfully  carry  it  on  only  as  a  steward  for  a 
Master  in  heaven.  He  speaks  to  me  not  only  of 
a  kingdom  of  heaven  into  which  I  may  go,  but 
of  a  kingdom  of  heaven  that  must  come  into  me, 
and  rule  me,  and  sanctify  me  every  moment  of 
my  life ;  and  I  could  make  my  little  world  almost 
heaven-like  if  the  gracious  sovereignty  of  my 
Master  swaj^ed  me  every  hour.  I  am  not  asked 
to  do  heavenly  work ;  but  to  do  my  earthly  work 
in  a  heavenly  way ;  and  the  commonest  work,  if 
done  under  my  Master's  eye,  will  be  blessed  work, 
be  it  what  it  may.  I  am  to  sanctify  my  ordinary 
pursuits ;  not  to  run  away  from  them.  The  truest 
piety  does  not  consist  in  being  absorbed  in  the  in- 
visible, but  in  being  godly  in  the  visible.  From 
monks  and  hermits  God  never  got  much  honour, 
nor  the  world  much  good.     It  is  devoutly  to  be 


118  WISE  STEWARDSHIP 

hoped  that  many  of  those  water-logged  ''saints" 
that  Hved  their  useless  lives,  slowly  rotting  in 
damp  stone  cells  and  caves,  were  taken  to  heaven 
when  they  died  ;  but  surely  they  were  amongst 
the  poorest  of  all  human  commodities  ever  taken 
in.  I  am  to  be  in  the  world,  though  not  of  it ; 
and  only  by  serving  my  brethren  can  I  serve  my 
Lord. 

My  joosition  in  life,  too,  is  another  trust  given 
me  to  use  for  Him.  If  I  ever  weakly  say  to  my- 
self that  I  would  do  much  more  good  were  I  only 
in  a  better  position  for  doing  it,  I  must  remember 
that  the  only  possible  way  of  proving  that  to  be 
true  is  my  doing  all  the  good  I  possibly  can  in  the 
position  I  occupy  now.  But,  if  a  servant  of  God 
at  all,  I  can  be  His  servant  anywhere,  whether, 
like  Abel,  I  am  a  keeper  of  sheep  ;  or,  like  Obadiah, 
a  courtier ;  or,  like  Daniel,  a  statesman ;  or,  like 
Luke,  a  physician ;  or,  like  Zenas,  a  lawyer ;  or, 
like  Cornelius,  a  soldier ;  or,  hke  Erastus,  a  city- 
chamberlain  ;  or,  like  David,  a  king.  I  can 
sanctify  my  own  small  home,  if  I  cannot  correct 
all  the  evils  of  the  State.  I  can  weep  with  some 
lonely  mourner,  if  I  cannot  dry  all  the  world's 
tears.  I  can  talk  to  a  few,  if  I  have  no  vocation 
to  preach  to  the  many.  I  can  give  Christ  some  of 
my  time,  if  I  cannot  give  Him  my  gold.  I  can 
be,  at  least,  a  lamp  in  my  own  dark  street,  if  I 
cannot  be  a  star  in  the  sky.  I  have  just  to  do  the 
good  that  lies  nearest  to  my  hand — "whatsoever 


WISE  STEWARDSHIP  119 

my  hand  findetli  (not  seeJceth)  to  do  " ;  and  to  do 
it  just  because  it  is  given  me  to  do.  My  Master's 
will,  my  Master's  approval,  my  Master's  love, 
should  be  enough. 

My  time,  too,  is  a  sacred  trust.  Every  day  of 
my  life,  as  well  as  every  faculty  of  my  soul,  belongs 
to  Him.  To  trifle  with  a  master's  time  is  the 
besetting  sin  of  workmen  everywhere ;  and  it 
seems  not  to  be  regarded  as  in  the  least  a 
wrong.  But  to  trifle  with  God's  time  is  to  waste 
what  does  not  belong  to  me ;  and  that  must  be 
quite  as  sinful  as  to  seize,  for  my  own  purposes. 
His  goods.  For,  ojpportunities  of  usefulness  are  a 
sacred  trust.  How  sinfully  I  often  let  these  slip  ! 
How  shamefully  I  let  cowardice,  procrastination, 
fear  of  men,  love  of  ease,  shrinking  from  the  cross, 
and  other  things  of  a  like  kind,  prevent  my  seizing 
the  chances  that  come  to  me  of  speaking  a  word 
in  season,  either  of  gentle  expostulation  or  of 
sympathetic  love ! 

Then,  too,  the  trials  and  sorrows  of  life  through 
which  I  am  sometimes  led  must  be  looked  upon  as 
among  the  most  sacred  of  the  trusts  committed  to 
my  hands.  Very  seldom  do  I  regard  them  so.  They 
are  thought  of  as  hindrances,  not  as  helps.  But  if 
the  great  Master  gives  to  one  servant  abundant 
wealth,  to  another  high  position,  to  another  rich 
endowments  of  brain,  He  sometimes  gives  to  one 
whom  He  greatly  loves  a  sore  and  lengthened 
trial,  that  out  of  it   He  may  get   something  for 


120  WISE  STEWARDSHIP 

His  praise.  He  sometimes  seems  to  say,  ''I  will 
give  you  a  painful  sickness  or  infirmity  to  bear  for 
weary  years  ;  or  bereavements  in  quick  succession, 
emptying  both  heart  and  home ;  or  losses  and 
privations  which  will  make  your  life  what  men 
would  call  only  a  dreary  struggle  with  misfortune 
— but  I  will  do  all  this  just  that  you  may  show 
how  My  sustaining  grace  can  keep  you  calm,  how 
My  love  wdthin  you  can  make  the  wilderness  to 
blossom  as  the  rose ;  how  when  Hagar's  bottle  is 
spent  God's  fountain  comes  into  view ;  how  out 
of  the  eater  there  can  come  forth  such  meat  as 
it  is  worth  any  pain  to  be  able  to  taste ;  and  you 
will  be  a  witness  to  Me  even  in  your  suffering, 
a  better  servant  in  your  utter  weakness,  than 
hundreds  who  are  strong  and  glad."  The  effect 
of  all  kinds  of  affliction  is  twofold — differing 
according  to  the  character  of  those  who  suffer  it. 
It  is  like  the  twofold  effect  of  fire.  Some  men 
come  out  of  it  as  bricks  do,  only  the  harder  for 
the  burning.  God's  chosen  ones.  His  trustful 
ones,  come  out  of  it  as  gold  does,  the  purer  for 
the  heat — and  not  only  the  purer  in  themselves, 
but  the  better  fitted  for  being  fashioned  into 
vessels  of  honour  for  the  Master's  use. 

To  realise  this  stewardship  of  mine,  in  all  its 
length  and  breadth  must  make  life  to  me  a 
solemn  thing,  for  I  know  not  how  soon  my  Lord 
will  call  for  an  account  of  my  stew^ardship,  and 
show  whether  I  have  been  faithful  or  unfaithful 


WISE  STEWARDSHIP  121 

in  it.  But  how  it  sivipUfies  life,  to  regard  all  of 
it  as  stewardship  to  Christ!  If  I  make  this  my 
aim,  if  this  is  the  "  one  thing  that  I  do,"  I  will 
find  that  glorifying  my  Master  takes  up  all  my 
hours ;  and  then  His  omnipresence  will  be  a 
precious  reality  to  me.  I  will  live  hourly  as  under 
His  eye,  and  the  thought  of  it  will  overshadow 
me  like  the  wings  of  the  cherubim.  My  heart 
finding  Grod,  where  my  creed  declares  Him  to 
be — that  is,  everywhere — I  will  live  so  near  to 
Him  that  I  shall  never  be  ''out  of  touch"  with 
my  Father  in  heaven.  Glances  of  love  will  be 
always  going  up  from  me  to  Him,  and  glances 
of  love  will  always  be  coming  down  from  Him 
to  me.  I  would  seek,  therefore,  to  live  every 
day  as  I  would  have  my  Master  find  me  when 
He  comes — with  all  my  accounts  in  perfect  readi- 
ness for  His  inspecting  eye ;  and  if  He  will  only 
say  to  me,  "Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servant," 
I  shall  be  satisfied  for  ever. 


XVIII 
UNPEOFITABLE    SEEVANTS 

"  Which  of  you,  having  a  servant  plowing  or  feeding  cattle,  will  say 
to  him  by  and  by,  when  he  is  come  from  the  field.  Go  and  sit  down 
to  meat  ?  and  will  not  rather  say  to  him,  Make  ready  wherewith  I 
may  sup,  and  gird  thyself  and  serve  me  till  I  have  eaten  and  drunken 
and  afterward  thou  shalt  eat  and  druik  ?  Doth  he  thank  that 
servant  because  he  did  the  things  that  were  commanded  him  ?  I  trow 
not.  So  hkewise  ye,  when  ye  shall  have  done  all  those  things  which 
are  commanded  you,  say,  We  are  unprofitable  servants:  we  have 
done  that  which  was  our  duty  to  do." — Luke  xvii.  7-10. 

My  first  thought,  on  hearing  this  question  of  my 
Master's,  might  naturally  be,  "  This  is  a  hard 
saying."  It  seems  to  represent  Him  as  an  incon- 
siderate taskmaster,  mercilessly  exacting,  concerned 
only  about  His  own  ease,  utterly  unconcerned 
about  mine,  and  grudging  me  even  the  smallest 
recognition  of  my  service,  serve  Him  as  un- 
weariedly  as  I  may.  This  seems  to  me  the  more 
strange  because  Luke  alone  records  it,  that  disciple 
who  had  so  keen  an  eye  and  ear  for  all  that  was 
most  loving  in  His  Master's  acts  and  words,  and 

122 


UNPROFITABLE  SERVANTS  123 

always  brought  His  exceeding  graciousness  fully 
into  view. 

And  yet,  on  farther  thought,  I  see  that  the 
Master's  design  in  the  parable  is  not  to  show  what 
He  is,  but  what  I  am,  and  ought  to  feel  myself  to 
be.  It  is  not  to  teach  me  the  verdict  I  should  pass 
upon  Hwi,  but  the  verdict  I  should  pass  upon 
myself.  His  relation  to  me  is  not  one  of  contract, 
but  of  ownership.  I  am  what  Paul  so  gladly  called 
himself,  the  "bondslave  of  Jesus  Christ."  I  am 
not  hired  to  do  just  so  much,  and  no  more.  I 
belong  to  this  Master  absolutely.  He  has  "bought 
me  with  a  price,"  and  has  a  right  to  all  my  time, 
and  all  my  exertions  too.  I  have  no  claim  on  Him. 
I  have  no  right  to  be  rewarded  for  my  service  ;  and 
I  must  have  no  self-complacency,  as  if  I  had  done 
something  very  extraordinary,  when  I  have  done 
"  all  that  it  was  my  duty  to  do." 

A  slave  could  never  say  or  feel  that  his  work  was 
done.  He  had  to  keep  himself  at  his  master's  call, 
by  night  as  well  as  by  day  ;  and  I  am  to  be  always 
at  my  Master's  call.  Though  the  call  may  come 
at  the  most  inconvenient  time,  I  am  to  rise  and 
obey.  He  makes  no  contract  to  pay  me  "  for  over- 
time "  ;  for  my  whole  time  is  to  be  His.  I  am  to 
to  be  always  working,  always  waiting,  always 
watching ;  and  I  am  not  to  complain  of  this,  as  if 
it  were  a  species  of  martyrdom.  I  am  never  to  feel 
as  the  bargaining  disciples  felt,  when  they  said, 
"Lo,  we  have  left  all  and  followed  Thee  :  what  shall 


124  UNPROFITABLE  SERVANTS 

we  have  therefore?"  I  am  to  remember  that  I 
am  wholly  His,  to  do  with  me  what  He  will ;  and 
so  I  am  neither  to  pity  myself  for  anything  I  bear, 
nor  plume  myself  on  anything  I  do.  Even  when 
I  have  done  my  very  best  I  am  to  feel  that  I 
might  have  done  far  more.  I  am  to  lament  that  I 
have  served  Him  so  poorly,  at  the  very  time  that 
I  gratefully  acknowledge  His  own  sustaining  grace, 
without  which  I  could  not  have  done  even  that. 
The  safeguard  against  all  self-complacency  is  to  be 
the  deep  conviction  that,  at  my  longest  and  my 
best,  I  have  done  no  more  than  it  was  "my  duty 
to  do." 

There  is  this  to  be  remembered,  too — that,  apart 
from  any  question  of  reward,  the  very  surest  way 
to  spoil  my  work  is  to  grow  proudly  self-com- 
placent over  it.  Indeed,  my  work  will  begin  to 
deteriorate  the  moment  I  am  satisfied  with  it. 
A  great  painter  said  sadly  once,  "  My  powers  are 
failing;  and  what  convinces  me  that  they  are  is 
this,  that  I  am  now  satisfied  with  my  productions, 
as  I  never  was  before."  Let  me  listen  to  my 
Master's  warning  against  the  subtle  foe  to  all 
sincerity,  and  to  all  progress  as  well.  "  After  ye 
have  done  all,  say.  We  are  unprofitable  servants, 
having  done  only  that  which  it  was  our  duty  to 
do." 

Is  it  very  hard  for  me  to  feel  like  that  ?  Have  I 
sometimes  hard  thoughts  of  my  Master  for 
demanding  from  me  so  much  as  that  ?    Then  let 


UNPROFITABLE  SERVANTS  125 

me  remember  that  the  whole  complexion  of  my 
service  is  completely  changed  the  moment  I 
realise  that  I  am  not  to  work  for  wages,  but  out  of 
love,  and  that  the  rest  and  release  I  often  crave 
(not  from  unwillingness  to  go  on,  but  from  my 
natural  weariness  when  I  have  to  meet  incessant 
calls),  if  not  given  me  here,  is  to  be  given  indeed 
in  the  new  world  where  "His  servants  rest  from 
their  labours,"  and  yet — strange  paradox — "serve 
Him  day  and  night  in  His  temple,"  their  work 
being  only  joy,  and  their  weariness  for  ever  past. 
I  am  a  servant,  and  yet  I  am  a  son.  I  am  a 
son,  and  yet  I  cannot  cease  to  be  a  servant  also. 
The  better  son  I  am,  I  will  be  the  better  servant ;  and 
if  it  is  my  love  that  constrains  me  to  serve,  I  will 
not  ask  impatiently  how  long  the  service  is  to  go 
on.  Instead  of  complaining  that  my  work  is  never 
done,  I  will  rather  rejoice  that  I  can  never  be  out 
of  His  employment ;  that,  as  soon  as  I  have  finished 
one  work  given  me  to  do.  He  has  some  new  work 
ready  for  me  to  undertake.  Perhaps  I  too  often 
lose  the  bright  glow  that  ought  to  shine  as  a  halo 
round  simple  duty.  Someone  has  said  that  the 
noblest  word  in  the  English  language  is  "  Duty  "  ; 
and  certainly  "  duty  "  should  appeal  to  me  more 
powerfully  than  it  often  does.  Duty  should  be  as 
dear  to  me  as  Love.  It  was  so  with  my  Master. 
He  gloried  in  being  just  the  unresting  servant  of 
the  Father.  To  do  the  Father's  will  down  to  the 
smallest  detail,  as  much  as  to  finish  the  Father's 


126  UNPROFITABLE  SERVANTS 

work  in  the  great  sweep  of  its  grandest  issues,  was 
His  only  aim  ;  and  because  He  served  from  love, 
the  hardest  service  was  to  Him  a  joy.  Should  not 
the  "  same  mind  be  in  me  that  was  in  Christ 
Jesus  "  ;  and  would  not  "  His  joy  thus  be  fulfilled  " 
in  me? 

This  is  really  the  only  cure  for  that  feeling  of 
worried  depression  and  disappointment  that  comes 
now  and  then  on  even  an  earnest  worker  for 
God ;  comes  oftenest,  perhaps,  to  those  who  are 
most  earnest.  Really  it  is  caused  by  nothing  else 
than  seeking  my  own  will  instead  of  His.  If  there 
is  toil  in  my  work,  has  not  His  will  appointed  the 
toil  ?  If  there  are  disappointments  in  my  work, 
does  He  not  include  the  disappointments  in  His 
plan  for  me  ?  What  Mary,  the  mother  of  the  Lord, 
once  whispered  to  the  servants  in  the  house  at 
Cana,  is  the  best  of  rules  for  me,  "  Whatsoever  He 
saith  unto  you,  do  it."  If  He  bids  me  labour  on 
through  all  the  heat,  and  only  begin  fresh  labour 
when  the  cool  of  the  day  has  come,  let  me  say  at 
once,  "  the  will  of  my  Lord  be  done."  If  He  bids 
me,  like  another  Paul,  "  depart  far  hence  to  the 
Gentiles,"  and  serve  Him  among  the  heathen,  let 
me  go  at  once,  however  strongly  I  would  prefer  to 
stay  and  serve  at  home.  If,  when  I  am  burning 
with  a  desire  to  follow  Him  in  greater  things.  He 
only  says  to  me,  "Return  to  thine  house,  and  tell 
them  what  great  things  I  have  done  for  thee,"  let 
me  do  it,  without  grudging  myself  the  loss  of  the 


UNPROFITABLE  SERVANTS  127 

honour  of  being  with  Him  in  His  larger  works.  If, 
in  the  midst  of  fruitful  work  in  some  Samaria,  He 
says  to  me,  "Arise,  and  go  down  by  the  way  of  the 
south  which  is  desert,"  let  me  go  willingly  even 
though  the  "desert"  should  mean  to  me,  not 
different  activity  as  it  did  to  Philip,  but  a  sick-bed 
with  long  years  of  pain ;  let  me  make  no  complaint, 
whatever  my  Master  may  call  me  to  do  or  to  bear  ; 
sure  that  wherever  I  follow  out  my  Lord's  com- 
mands, I  am  following  my  Lord  Himself,  and  He 
will  be  with  me  still.  That  will  be  an  end  of 
every  worry  and  of  every  fear. 

And  yet,  for  my  comfort,  let  me  think  that  there 
is  another  side  of  the  picture  than  that  which  alone 
is  presented  here.  The  Master,  liere^  is  speaking 
only  of  what  the  feelings  of  the  servant  should  be  ; 
but  He  spoke  at  another  time  of  what  His  own 
feelings  about  His  servants'  work  will  be  shown  at 
last  to  be.  "  Blessed  are  those  servants  whom 
their  lord,  when  he  cometh,  shall  find  watching : 
verily,  I  say  unto  you,  that  he  shall  gird  himself^ 
and  make  them  to  sit  down  to  meat,  and  will  come 
forth  and  serve  tJiem.^'  If  He  did  not  "  thank  the 
servant "  once,  and  the  servant  therefore  thought 
Him  cold  and  hard,  he  will  reverse  that  judgment 
of  his  Master  afterwards.  Though  I  call  myself  an 
unprofitable  servant,  it  does  not  follow  that  He  will 
call  me  so.  Though  I  serve  Him  simply  out  of 
love,  looking  for  no  reward,  it  does  not  follow  that 
there  shall  be  no  reward.     I  did  not  want  to  be 


128  UNPROFITABLE  SERVANTS 

"  thanked  "  for  my  service.  My  only  aim  was  just 
to  be  "approved,"  to  be  ''  accepted  of  Him";  but 
He  will  not  let  me  always  want  an  outspoken  com- 
mendation :  He  will  give  me  even  more  than  that. 
"  He  will  make  me  sit  down  to  meat,  and  serve  me.'' 
Is  it  so,  that  whatever  I  do  for  Him  He  will  do  for 
me  ?  that  if  I  love  my  Master  He  will  love  me  ? 
that  if  I  honour  my  Master  He  will  honour  me  ? 
that  if  I  serve  my  Master  He  will  serve  me  ?  Then 
I  understand  how,  when  He  says  at  last,  "I  was 
an  hungered  and  ye  gave  Me  meat,  thirsty  and  ye 
gave  Me  drink,"  and  the  humbled  servants,  more 
humbled  by  His  praise  than  even  by  their  own 
defects,  say,  "  Lord,  when  saw  we  Thee  an  hungered 
and  fed  Thee,  or  thirsty  and  gave  Thee  drink  ?  "  He 
should  not  only  say,  "  Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  to  the 
least  of  these  My  brethren,  ye  did  it  unto  Me,"  but 
should  entrance  them  with  the  exceeding  magnifi- 
cence of  the  reward  reserved  for  them,  "  Come, 
inherit  the  kingdom  prepared  for  you  before  the 
foundation   of  the  world." 


XIX 

HEEOIC   CHEISTIANITY 

"Wliat  do  ye  more  than  others?" — Matthew  v.  47. 

"  If  ye  love  them  that  love  you,  what  thank  have  ye?  for  sinners 
also  love  those  that  love  them.  And  if  ye  do  good  to  them  that  do 
good  to  you,  what  thank  have  ye  ?  for  sinners  also  do  even  the  same. 
And  if  ye  lend  to  them  of  whom  ye  hope  to  receive,  what  thank  have 
ye  ?  for  sinners  also  lend  to  sinners,  to  receive  as  much  again." — Luke 
vi.  32-34. 

Most  searching  questions  these  for  my  quiet 
hour  to-day  !  They  are  both  very  broad  and  very 
deep.  They  cover  the  whole  expanse  of  my  daily 
life,  and  yet  they  lead  me  up  to  such  heights  of 
Christian  feeling  as  I  almost  despair  of  being  able 
to  reach.  The  Master  expects  His  disciples  to  be 
not  only  good,  but  supremely  good  ;  not  merely  as 
good  as  others,  but  better  than  the  best  of  others. 
He  expects  to  see  in  me  higher  aspirations,  tenderer 
feelings,  kindlier  affections,  purer  love,  more  gene- 
rous hands,  than  He  finds  in  other  men.  I  am 
not  to  take  on  any  aws  of  superiority ;  and  yet  I 
am  to  be  superior  to  the  general  morahty  of  the 

10  129 


130  HEROIC  CHRISTIANITY 

world.  I  am  not  to  shut  myself  up  in  pharisaic 
coldness,  "  saluting  my  brethren  only."  I  am  not 
to  be  niggard  in  my  sympathies,  helping  those  only 
who  may  in  turn  help  me.  I  am  to  carry  out  in 
everything  the  spirit  of  my  Lord,  who  said,  "  When 
thou  makest  a  feast,  call  not  thy  friends,  nor  thy 
brethren,  nor  thy  rich  neighbours,  lest  they  also 
bid  thee  again,  and  a  recompense  be  made  thee : 
but  call  the  poor,  the  maimed,  the  lame,  the  blind ; 
and  thou  shalt  be  blessed  ;  for  they  cannot  recom- 
pense thee  ;  but  thou  shalt  be  recompensed  at  the 
resurrection  of  the  just." 

Moreover,  I  am  to  keep  down  all  pride  and  all 
resentment.  I  am  to  think  kindly  of  those  that 
most  harshly  judge  me,  and  are  bitter  in  their 
feelings  towards  me.  I  am  to  speak  generously  of 
the  men  that  speak  disparagingly  of  me.  I  am  to 
love  genuinely  those  that  are  most  opposite  to  me 
in  character;  who  are  successfully  out-distancing 
me  in  business  or  in  fame  ;  those  even  whose 
material  and  family  interests  most  clash  with  mine, 
and  who  are  vindicating  at  law  what  they  suppose 
to  be  their  rights  against  me :  who  have  spoken 
cruel  words  about  me,  have  slandered  me,  and 
injured  me  in  every  possible  way.  I  am  not  to  say 
"  an  eye  for  an  eye  and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth."  I  am 
to  love  my  enemy,  to  drop  a  branch,  at  least,  of 
the  sweet-smelling  tree  of  kindness  into  the  waters 
of  his  bitterness,  if  so  be  I  can  heal  them,  and 
turn  his  Marah  into   such  an  Elim  as  my  own. 


HEROIC   CHRISTIANITY  131 

Still  farther,  I  am  to  be  absolutely  superior  to 
that  party-spirit  which,  under  the  guise  of  a  greater 
sanctity,  does  mischief  everywhere.  I  am  to  be  above 
it,  so  far  as  my  oivn  nation  is  concerned.  I  may 
be  a  patriot,  but  I  am  not  therefore  to  look  down 
on  other  nations  with  contempt.  I  am  to  be  above 
it,  so  far  as  my  race  is  concerned.  The  duskiest 
skin  may  enshrine  a  noble  soul.  The  blackest 
African  may  have  a  very  white  heart.  "  God  hath 
made  all  men  of  07ie  blood,''  and  I  must  not 
"call  any  man  common  or  unclean."  I  am  to  be 
above  it,  so  far  as  mi/  own  religion  even  is  con- 
cerned. I  may  thank  God  that  the  true  light  has 
come  to  me,  but  I  am  not  to  laugh  at  the  supersti- 
tions from  which  His  mercy  alone  has  set  me  free  ; 
or  to  despise  the  dim  gropings  after  light  which 
can  be  seen  in  heathen  lands.  I  am  to  be  above 
it,  so  far  as  my  own  ecclesiastical  denomination 
is  concerned.  I  am  to  love  all  that  are  Christ's,  be 
the  Church  in  which  they  find  their  spiritual  home 
as  different  from  mine  as  it  may.  All  pride,  all 
jealousy,  all  fiery  denunciation,  all  chilling  con- 
tempt, all  grudging  of  neighbourly  help,  all  looking 
for  some  reward  in  kind  before  I  stretch  out  a 
generous  hand — all  this  I  am  to  know  absolutely 
nothing  of.  In  my  private  and  personal  life  there 
is  to  be  a  crushing  down  of  all  that  pettiness 
of  temper  that  would  make  me  both  ungenerous 
and  unjust.  In  my  domestic  life  there  is  to  be 
a  tenderness,  forbearance,  harmony  beyond  what 


132  HEROIC   CHRISTIANITY 

are  found  in  ordinary  homes.  Family  frictions 
are  to  be  oiled  by  family  love.  In  my  business 
life  there  is  to  be  a  keener  sense  of  absolute 
integrity  than  is  felt  by  others  beside  me.  In 
my  social  and  public  life  there  is  to  be  a 
magnanimity  that  will  never  irritate  by  quick 
reproaches  nor  misrepresent  an  opponent's  words  ; 
a  generous  appreciation  of  all  that  is  best  in 
those  from  whom  I  differ  most.  This  my  Master 
expects  of  me.     I  am  to  do  "  more  than  others." 

This  is  His  ideal ;  and  a  life  like  this  it  must  be 
my  aim  to  reach.  But  can  I  reach  it  ?  It  seems 
too  high  an  attainment  ever  to  be  realised.  In  any 
ordinary  mood  of  mind  I  am  apt  to  regard  such 
teaching  as  this  as  being  unduly  strained  and 
exaggerated  :  a  very  beautiful  ideal,  but  not  to 
be  taken  as  a  working  law  for  the  life  of  every  day. 
It  seems  too  romantic  ;  not  sufficiently  homely  :  a 
rule  that  cannot  be  obeyed  till  the  golden  age  of 
the  millennium  has  come.  I  say  to  myself  "  This 
is  more  than  can  be  expected  of  flesh  and  blood;  " 
and  that  is  true.  But  then  my  Master  is  not 
speaking  to  me  as  to  "  flesh  and  blood,"  but  as  to 
one  who  has  been  both  redeemed  and  renewed. 
Do  I  say  to  myself,  "  this  looks  too  much  like  the 
bondage  of  law,  and  I  imagined  I  was  free  from 
law  ?  "  It  is  true  that  I  am  not  under  the  law  but 
under  grace  ;  yet,  just  because  I  am  under  grace, 
I  should  feel  that  to  be  a  constraint  to  all  practical 
holiness  far  stronger  than  mere  law  could  put  upon 


HEROIC  CHRISTIANITY  133 

me  ;  and  I  have,  in  addition,  the  promise  of  grace 
sufficient  to  help  me  in  obeying  my  Master's  com- 
mands. He  never  gives  any  command  without  a 
corresponding  promise  of  help. 

If  I  ever  think  that  both  I  and  the  world  must 
wait  for  some  brighter  millennial  day  before  such  a 
life  as  this  can  be  lived  by  any  of  us,  I  have  just 
to  remember  that,  if  ever  such  a  day  does  come,  it 
will  be  then  precisely  that  the  impossibility  of  ful- 
filling these  precepts  will  begin  !  for  then  there 
will  be  none  who  hate  me  and  whom  I  must  love  : 
none  who  persecute  me  for  whom  I  must  pray.  It 
will  be  impossible  for  me  then  to  love  my  enemies, 
for  no  enemies  will  be  left  for  me  to  love.  So  then, 
it  is  here  and  now  that  I  must  obey  these  precepts 
of  my  Lord ;  and  if  they  seem  to  demand  of  me  a 
perfection  of  Christian  feeling  which  it  will  be  im- 
possible for  me  to  reach,  let  me  consider  that  if  I 
on  that  account,  or  on  any  account,  refuse  them, 
I  am  really  rejectingHimself  as  the  great  Lord  of 
my  life ;  and  that  I  cannot  have  him  as  the  Bedee7ner 
of  my  soul,  unless  I  have  Him  as  the  Master  of 
my  soul  as  well. 

This  keeping  of  His  commandments  is  the  only 
proof  of  my  love  to  Him ;  and  it  is  the  fruit  of 
love  as  well.  "  He  that  hath  My  commandments 
and  keepeth  them,"  says  Jesus,  "he  it  is  that 
loveth  Me," — there  is  obedience  as  the  proof  of 
love  ;  but  next  He  says,  "  He  that  loveth  Me  not, 
keepeth  not  My  sayings  " — there  is  obedience  as 


134  HEROIC  CHRISTIANITY 

the  fruit  of  love.  If  I  do  not  obey  Him,  I  do  not 
love  Him.     If  I  do  not  love  Him,  I  cannot  obey. 

Living  so  high  a  life  as  this  is  the  only  way  in 
which  I  can  honour  my  Master  before  the  world. 
It  does  not  care  much  for  religion  in  the  creed; 
but  it  always  respects  religion  in  the  life ;  and  I  am 
in  the  world  as  a  soul  redeemed,  for  this  purpose 
only — to  win  the  world's  regard  for  my  Redeemer, 
by  what  it  sees  in  me.  And  what  will  be  my 
reward  for  doing  it  ?  I  can  seek  no  greater 
reward  than  what  He  promises  to  me ;  that  I 
shall  thus  be  like  God  Himself ;  I  shall  be  a  *'  child 
of  the  Highest" — a  true  copy  of  "  My  Father  who 
is  in  heaven."  God  loves  His  enemies.  If  He 
could  not  do  that.  He  never  would  have  loved  me. 
My  best  reward  for  loving  my  enemies  is  that  thus 
I  am  resembling  Him.  "  To  render  evil  for  good 
is  devil-like ;  to  render  evil  for  evil  is  beast-like  ;  to 
render  good  for  good  is  man-like ;  to  render  good 
for  evil  is  God-like  ;  "  and  what  better  reward,  what 
finer  honour  can  be  mine,  than  to  be  like  my  God  ? 

Alas !  that  my  resemblance  to  Him  is  so  faint ! 
Sadly  must  I  echo  the  words  of  a  saintly  man  of 
old,  who,  reading  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  said, 
"Either  these  are  not  the  precepts  of  Christ, 
or  I  am  not  a  Christian."  The  very  world  that  I 
am  called  to  be  superior  to  often  puts  me  to  shame. 
I  see  the  great  sacrifices  willingly  made  by  heathen 
to  their  false  gods — I  see  the  beauty  of  philan- 
thropy in   men  who  utterly  abjure  the  Christian 


HEROIC   CHRISTIANITY  135 

name — I  see  how  devotion  to  science  can  break 
down  the  barriers  of  social  caste ;  and  I  ask  myself 
with  shame,  "  What  do  I  more  than  others  ?  "  I 
serve  a  nobler  Master — why  should  I  so  often  show 
a  poorer  life  ?  Let  my  shame  lead  on  to  penitence, 
and  my  penitence  to  a  new  self-consecration.  Let 
me  be  more  evidently,  by  my  lowly  self -forgetting 
love,  a  witness  to  Him  whose  lowly  self-forgetting 
love  redeemed  me  for  Himself. 


XX 

PEOFESSION   WITHOUT  PKACTICE 


*'  Why  call  ye  me  Lord,  Lord,  and  do  not  the  things  which  I  say  ?  " 
-LxjKB  vi.  46. 


A  QUESTION  SO  sharp  and  piercing  as  this  might 
make  me  think  that  it  is  meant  only  for  those  who 
are  consciously  insincere  in  their  professions,  but 
not  for  me.  But  on  one  occasion  my  Master  said 
"  to  His  discijjles  first  of  all,  Take  heed  and  beware 
of  the  leaven  of  the  Pharisees,  which  is  hijjyocrisy." 
''  To  His  disciples  first  of  all !  "  Do  they  then  need 
to  be  so  specially  warned  against  hypocrisy  ?  Is 
that  a  danger  to  which  they,  above  others,  are 
exposed  ?  My  Lord  knows  what  is  in  man.  The 
seeds  of  all  evil  are  lying  dormant  in  the  heart-soil 
of  even  the  best  of  us,  and  only  need  favourable 
conditions  to  spring  into  noxious  life ;  and  these 
baleful  seeds  may  often  find  their  opportunity  of 
life  in  soil  that  has  just  been  cleared,  though  their 
very  existence   there  would  never  be  suspected. 

136 


PROFESSION  WITHOUT  PRACTICE       137 

Perhaps  this  may  be  truer  of  the  seeds  of  insincerity 
than  of  some  other  kinds;  for,  as  Milton  says, 
"Hypocrisy  is  the  only  evil  that  walks  invisible 
except  to  God  alone.''  I  must  therefore  hear  my 
Master  speaking  to  myself,  when  He  puts  so  sharp 
a  question  as  this. 

For  I  cannot  easily  escape  the  down-dragging 
influences  of  the  world  round  about  me,  which 
often  dull  the  sensitiveness  of  my  conscience,  and 
make  me  excuse  much  that,  in  my  better  and 
higher  moments,  I  feel  to  be  inconsistent  with  a 
really  whole-hearted  discipleship.  I  see  that  multi- 
tudes do  call  Jesus  Lord,  and  yet  do  not  the 
things  which  He  commands  ;  and  then  I  begin  to 
ask  myself  whether  I  have  not  been  interpreting 
His  commands  too  strictly ;  and  whether  the  same 
looseness  of  obedience  which  satisfies  others  may 
not  be  sufficient  for  me.  I  see  that  many  follow 
Christ — in  the  Churches  at  least — with  a  profession 
of  love  to  Him,  and  a  professed  acceptance  of  His 
lordship  over  them,  who,  if  I  do  not  misjudge 
them,  are  actuated  by  far  lower  considerations. 
I  see  that  some  call  Jesus  Lord  for  the  sake  of  the 
worldly  advantages  they  can  reap  by  wearing  the 
Christian  name.  It  is  an  unquestionable  fact  that 
even  quite  worldly  men  have  so  great  a  faith  in 
the  genuine  Christian  character,  that  they  will 
trust  a  Christian  where  they  would  not  trust  any 
one  else.  A  worldly  master  will  choose,  by  prefer- 
ence, a  Christian  servant  in  his  home  or  a  Christian 


138       PROFESSION  WITHOUT  PRACTICE 

clerk  in  his  business  on  the  ground  that  he  is  likely 
to  be  served  more  faithfully  by  them  than  by  any  one 
else.  Time  was  when  even  a  negro  slave,  if  known 
to  be  a  Christian,  would  bring  a  higher  price  on 
the  auction-block.  But  all  this  only  leads  many 
to  put  on  the  appearance  of  discipleship,  and  call 
Christ  their  intimate  friend  for  the  benefit  of  His 
name  !  Alas  for  the  wide  ruin  that  has  frequently 
overtaken  too  confiding  hearts,  after  entrusting 
their  hard-won  savings  to  the  keeping  of  men 
whose  profession  of  Christian  devotedness  was 
very  loud,  and  who  on  that  account  were  trusted 
to  the  uttermost,  but  showed  ere  long  that  they 
only  "  wore  a  cloak  to  deceive  "  and  were  "  hypo- 
crites "  at  heart ! 

I  see,  too,  that  some  men  make  great  profession 
of  zeal  for  Christ  in  order  to  increase  their  reputa- 
tion and  advancement  in  the  CJmrch.  They  are 
but  the  modern  representatives  of  the  ancient 
Pharisees,  whose  zeal  for  religion  only  tried  to 
hide  their  love  of  the  praise  of  men.  For  the 
Bible  is  no  collection  of  fossils.  I  am  not  walking 
through  an  old  antiquarian  museum  when  I  pass 
through  the  Gospel  galleries  and  look  at  the  men 
who  lived  twenty  centuries  ago.  I  am  rather  in  a 
gallery  full  of  mirrors,  each  one  of  which  gives  me 
a  reflection  of  myself.  Both  Pharisees  and  Sad- 
ducees  are  walking  the  world  to-day.  They  are 
sometimes,  both  of  them,  walking  in  the  secret 
passages  of  my  own  heart.     It  ought  to  be  a  very 


PROFESSION  WITHOUT  PRACTICE       139 

affecting  thought  to  me  that  the  same  eye  that 
detected  the  unreaHty  of  professed  rehgion  in  these 
ancient  days  must  be  detecting  everywhere  the 
same  thing  still,  and  may  be  detecting  it  in  me  ; 
and  that  a  man  may  spend  a  long  life  professedly 
in  the  service  of  Christ  and  go  down  to  his  grave 
lamented  as  though  a  pillar  of  the  Church  had 
fallen,  and  yet  be  found,  when  all  is  revealed,  to 
have  had  no  higher  motive  than  to  "do  well  to 
himself."  The  very  world  has  often  a  keen  eye 
for  the  inconsistency  between  profession  and  prac- 
tice. It  is  not  the  genuine  Christian,  but  the  sham 
one  that  it  despises  and  condemns.  Much  more 
does  the  true-hearted,  genuine  Master  Himself: 
and  what  would  be  the  effect  if  He,  who  once 
drove  out  of  the  temple  all  the  profaners  of  His 
Father's  house,  should  go  through  every  congre- 
gation of  worshippers  to-day,  removing  from  it  all 
w^ho  do  not  follow  Him  for  His  oion  sake  alone  ? 
How  many  a  sanctuary  would  be  left  with  very 
few  worshippers  indeed  !  In  such  a  case  would  I 
be  one  of  those  left  with  Him?  Let  me  look 
honestly  and  seriously  into  this. 

Our  forefathers  were,  perhaps,  too  introspective 
in  their  general  religious  life,  sometimes  morbidly 
so.  They  were  always  plucking  up  the  young 
trees  and  examining  the  roots  to  see  if  there  were 
really  life  and  growth  within  them ;  and  they  ran 
a  great  danger  of  killing  the  tree.  But  we  now  go 
to  the  opposite  extreme ;  and  even  where  the  leaves 


140       PROFESSION  WITHOUT  PRACTICE 

are  falling  ofi  and  no  fruit  ripens  we  seldom  think 
of  digging  deep  to  find  out  the  reason  which  lies 
out  of  sight.  This  tendency  of  the  day  affects  me 
unconsciously ;  and  I  am  too  ready  to  take  my 
discipleship  for  granted  because,  when  all  the 
multitude  is  crying  "  Hosanna,"  I  cry  "  Hosanna  " 
too. 

If  anything  should  be  unmistakably  clear  to  me, 
this  ought  to  be,  that  the  precepts  of  my  Lord  are 
absolutely  opposed  to  nearly  all  the  maxims  of  the 
world  in  which  I  move ;  and  that  to  serve  two 
masters  so  utterly  at  variance  must  be  a  thing 
impossible.  But  if  I  "  call  Jesus  Lord,"  and  do 
what  others  say  ;  if  I  try  to  make  the  promises  of 
Christ  my  comfort  and  the  maxims  of  the  world 
my  rule ;  if  I  give  Christ  my  worship  and  the 
world  my  heart;  if  I  would  retain  Christ  as  my 
advocate,  but  make  the  world  my  friend  ;  if  I  pay 
Christ  visits  of  ceremony,  but  feel  that  the  world 
is  my  home ;  if  I  say  that  Christ  has  new-fashioned 
me  to  be  a  child  of  Grod,  but  still  walk  according 
to  the  fashion  of  the  world  from  which  I  profess 
to  have  been  delivered;  if,  for  the  joy  of  my 
spiritual  life,  I  look  to  Christ,  but  for  the  law  of 
my  social  life  I  look  to  men  ;  may  not  this  piercing 
question  from  my  Master's  lips  bring  me  to  my 
knees  before  Him  in  shame  and  penitence  and 
prayer  ? 

Let  me  beware  of  showing  in  myself  what 
Bunyan  has   so   caustically   satirised    in    "  Lord 


PROFESSION  WITHOUT  PRACTICE       141 

Fairspeech,"  "Mr.  Talkative,"  "Mr.  Facing- 
both-ways,"  and  "  Parson-two-tongues."  Let  it 
never  be  said  of  me  "the  voice,  indeed,  is  Jacob's 
voice  ;  but  the  hands  are  the  hands  of  Esau." 
This  Master  of  mine  differs  from  all  others  in  this, 
that  He  claims  to  be  the  supreme  Lawgiver  as 
well  as  the  only  Saviour ;  and  His  rule  must  be 
absolute  over  my  outward,  as  well  as  my  inward, 
life.  His  demand  of  me  is  that  I  should  obey 
Him  in  everytliing.  It  is  sometimes  said  that  His 
precepts  cannot  apply  to  this  present  day ;  that 
the  whole  circumstances  of  society  have  so  changed, 
that  His  rules  of  life  cannot  be  carried  out  except 
at  the  expense  of  a  dislocation  of  the  whole  social 
life  of  the  day.  But  this  is  not  a  condemnation 
of  the  precepts.  It  is  a  condemnation  of  society. 
It  is  said,  again,  that  if  an  attempt  were  made  in 
business  matters  to  carry  out  the  principles  of  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount,  men  might  as  well  give  up 
business  altogether.  But  that,  too,  is  not  a  con- 
demnation of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount :  it  is  a 
condemnation  of  the  business.  Christ  was  legis- 
lating, not  for  that  distant  age  alone,  but  for  every 
age;  and  if  a  man  cannot  prosper  in  worldly 
business  and  grow  rich,  too,  while  faithfully 
obeying  this  Master's  commands,  he  had  better 
cease  trying  to  be  rich  at  all ;  and  thousands  of 
men  could  rise  up  to-day  and  witness  against  this 
slander  upon  their  Lord,  telling  how  they  have 
found  by  experience  that  success  came  to  them 


142       PROFESSION   WITHOUT  PRACTICE 

just  in  proportion  as  they  honestly  carried  out  the 
whole  of  their  great  Master's  law. 

Yet,  alas  !  when  I  look  at  myself  and  see  how 
small  is  the  obedience  I  often  give  to  His  com- 
mands ;  when  I  think  of  the  poor  measure  in  which 
I  surrender  to  Him  the  government  of  my  life, 
and  not  of  my  life  only,  but  of  my  feelings  and 
tempers  and  ambitions  and  thoughts ;  when  I  ask 
myself  to  what  extent  I  do  really  "  seek  first  His 
kingdom's  righteousness,"  letting  my  own  ambitions 
sink  down  into  their  proper  place,  I  seem  to  hear 
Him  say,  even  as  I  bend  before  Him  in  secret 
prayer,  "  Why  callest  thou  me  Lord,  and  doest 
not  the  things  which  I  say  ?  "  Would  that  all  the 
most  secret  things  of  my  soul  were  under  law  to 
Him  as  well  as  the  open  things  of  my  life ;  and 
that  I  could  feel  habitually,  as  the  old  Greek 
sculptor  felt,  who,  when  carving  carefully  the  back 
of  a  statue  of  his  god  for  a  temple  niche,  and  being 
told  that  he  needed  not  to  be  so  particular  about 
the  hacTi^  since  it  would  be  fastened  into  the  wall, 
replied,  "  The  gods  can  see  in  the  w^all." 


XXI 

NO    CKOSS,   NO    CEOWN 

"What  wUt  thou  ?  "—Matthew  xx.  21. 

"  What  would  ye  that  I  should  do  for  you  ?  "—Mark  x.  36. 

"  Are  ye  able  to  drink  of  the  cup  that  I  shall  drink  of,  and  to 
baptised  with  the  baptism  that  I  am  baptised  with  ?  " — Matthew 
XX.  22. 

A  MAEVELLOUSLY  gentle  way,  surely,  of  rebuking  the 
ignorant  pride  of  these  disciples,  and  of  their 
ambitious  mother  as  well !  There  was  no  harsh- 
ness in  the  Master's  tone,  either  to  her  or  to  them. 
I  do  not  wonder  at  His  exceeding  gentleness  to 
her,  for  in  the  whole  gospels  I  do  not  read  that 
He  ever  spoke  harshly  to  a  woman;  and  then,  she 
was  a  mother,  and  He  knows  the  mother-heart. 
But  I  do  wonder  at  His  great  gentleness  with  her 
place-hunting  sons.  I  would  not  have  been  sur- 
prised if  He  had  then  and  there  indignantly 
exposed  their  presumption  to  the  gaze  of  all, 
tearing  off  their  masks,  and  revealing  all  that  He 
saw  in  their  foolish  hearts.     But  He  only  shows 

143 


144  NO  CROSS,  NO  CROWN 

them  an  infinite   pity — "  Ye  know  not  what  ye 
ask." 

No  doubt  there  was  something  better  in  them 
than  coarse  self-seeking,  and  He  saw  and  appre- 
ciated the  kernel  of  good  that  lay  within  the  husk 
of  their  ambition — a  real  faith  in  His  coming  glory, 
a  real  love  to  Himself,  and  a  real  desire  to  be 
always  as  near  to  Him  as  they  could  get.  But 
after  all  it  was  not  just  their  own  nearness  to  Him 
that  fired  their  hearts.  It  was  the  wish  for  a  near- 
ness more  intimate  than  any  of  the  other  disciples 
would  enjoy.  It  was  not  just  nearness  of  affection^ 
but  rather  nearness  of  position  in  the  coming  king- 
dom— such  a  nearness  as  would  mark  them  out  as 
special  favourites  of  the  King.  They  had  not  the 
face  to  put  it  exactly  in  that  way.  To  come  out 
with  the  naked  truth,  in  all  its  shamelessness, 
would  have  been  too  much  even  for  them ;  and 
they  seem  to  have  had  a  dim  sort  of  conscious- 
ness that  there  was  something  wrong,  for  they  put 
their  request  at  first  in  very  general  terms,  "We 
would  that  Thou  shouldst  do  for  us  whatsoever  we 
shall  desire."  They  wished  to  catch  the  Master, 
and  bind  Him  beforehand  by  a  trick.  "  Surely," 
they  say,  "  it  cannot  be  supposed  that  ive  would 
ask  anything  wrong  !  "  This  way  of  putting  it, 
however,  only  showed  how  utterly  unfit  for  any 
high  place  in  a  kingdom  of  truth  they  were,  as  a 
little  before  they  had  shown  their  unfitness  for  any 
power  in  a  kingdom  of  love.    A  few  poor  Samari- 


NO  CROSS,  NO  CROWN  145 

tan  villagers  had  churlishly  refused  their  Master  a 
welcome  as  He  passed  ;  and  instantly  these  "  Sons 
of  Thunder  "  were  for  calling  down  fire  from  heaven 
to  consume  them  !  "  Alas,"  said  the  pitying  Christ, 
"  ye  know  not  what  manner  of  spirit  ye  are  of."  In 
the  same  way  He  answers  them  now  :  ''  Eulers  in 
My  kingdom  you  wish  to  be  !  So  fully  convinced 
of  your  fitness  to  rule  that  you  would  pledge  Me 
beforehand  to  give  you  its  highest  seats  !  Beauti- 
ful rulers  of  My  kingdom  of  love  and  peace  you 
would  be,  with  your  fire  from  heaven !  Quite 
able,  as  you  think,  to  reign  with  Me,  are  you  able 
first  to  suffer  with  Me  ?  Can  you  gladly  crucify 
yourselves,  like  Me,  and  stoop  to  intensest  agony 
and  lowest  shame,  that  out  of  these  you  may  rise, 
like  Me,  to  a  kingdom  and  a  throne  ?  "  He  knew 
them  better  than  they  knew  themselves,  for  only  a 
few  days  more  and  they  failed  outright.  It  would 
not  have  been  so  wonderful  if  they  had  fainted  in 
drinking  their  own  cup ;  but  they  fainted  at  the 
very  sight  of  Him  drinking  His. 

I  would  listen,  therefore,  to  this  question  of  my 
Lord's  whenever,  growing  discontented  with  my 
allotted  place  or  work,  I  am  eagerly  reaching  out 
my  hands  to  grasp  what  may  satisfy  an  unholy 
ambition.  All  hands  are  not  steady  enough  to 
carry  a  full  cup.  All  hearts  are  not  humble 
enough  to  be  entrusted  with  great  power.  There 
is  not  a  Christian  living  to  whom  the  complete 
management  of  even  a  very  small  portion  of  the 

11 


146  NO  CROSS,  NO  CROWN 

Master's  kingdom  could  be  safely  committed  for 
a  single  day.  When  Augustine  was  asked  what 
is  the  first  thing  in  the  Christian  life,  he  replied, 
"  Humility  "  ;  asked  what,  then,  was  the  second, 
he  said  "Humility";  and  asked  what  the  third 
is,  to  that  also  he  replied  "Humility."  Most 
rightly  so ;  for  though  I  carried  all  other  Christian 
graces  in  my  heart,  and  lacked  humility,  I  would 
be  like  one  who  carries  a  precious  powder  in  a  box 
without  a  cover  on  a  windy  day.  No  one  ever  said, 
"  Master,  give  me  the  highest  place,"  whose  soul 
was  not  thereby  evidenced  to  be  full  of  that  foolish 
pride  that  always  precedes  a  fall. 

I  must  remember,  too,  that  the  honours  of  the 
kingdom  do  not  go  by  favouritism.  They  need  to 
be  won,  and  they  cannot  be  cheaply  won.  They 
are  won  by  long  endurances,  many  sufferings, 
hard  self-crucifixions,  bitter  tears.  When  one  of 
Napoleon's  generals  asked  him  for  a  marshal's 
baton,  "It  is  not  I,"  said  Napoleon,  "that  make 
marshals  ;  it  is  victory."  So  says  the  great  Cap- 
tain of  Salvation  too.  The  prize  is  "to  him  that 
overcomes."  It  is  not  the  mere  camp-follower, 
neither  is  it  the  man  who  is  a  soldier  only  on 
parade ;  it  is  the  conqueror  in  hard  fight  who 
shall  sit  upon  the  throne  beside  his  conquering 
Lord.  If  I  wish  to  be  a  white-robed  palm-bearer 
before  the  throne  on  high,  I  must  first  be  a  blood- 
bespattered  sword-bearer  in  many  a  conflict  here. 
Even  Christ  Himself  cannot  change  that  law.     If, 


No  CROSS,  NO  CROWN  147 

by  a  mere  act  of  good-will,  He  could  raise  every- 
one of  His  disciples  to  a  throne,  His  love  and 
grace  are  great  enough  to  do  it ;  but  the  law  of 
spiritual  gravitation  is  absolute.  In  a  very  deep 
sense  every  man  goes  "  to  his  own  place  " — the  only 
place  for  which  he  is  fit.  If  the  Christ-spirit  is 
more  perfect  in  me,  and  the  Christ-life  fuller  in  me 
than  they  are  in  some  beside  me,  I  shall  have  a 
greater  nearness  to  my  Lord,  both  here  and  here- 
after too.  But  not  otherwise.  He  has  no  favourites. 
There  is  no  such  thing  as  arbitrary  selections  and 
preferences  in  His  kingdom.  And  really  Christ- 
filled  souls  never  lust  for  rank  or  distinction  of  any 
kind.  They  only  desire  to  be  like  Him  in  humble 
service.  That  gives  them  the  only  nearness  they 
seek.  He  is  the  Highest  because  He  made  Him- 
self the  lowest.  He  is  on  heaven's  throne  because 
first  He  stooped  to  Bethlehem's  manger  and  Cal- 
vary's Cross.  He  is  Lord  of  all  because,  first.  He 
became  servant  to  all.  In  me,  too,  self-humbhng 
and  even  self-crucifixion  can  alone  prepare  for  or 
ensure  the  honour  that  is  eternal. 

Therefore  it  is  that  He  comes  to  me  and  says, 
"You  want  to  be  made  a  great  saint,  and  think 
you  have  only  to  ask  for  that,  and  the  saintliness 
will  be  given  you  at  once ;  nay,  but  are  you  wilhng 
to  have  the  heavy  trials,  the  long  temptations,  and 
the  slow,  patient  victories,  by  which  alone  great 
saints  are  made  ?  You  would  fain  be,  like  Jacob, 
a  prince  with  God,  but  are  you  prepared  to  wrestle 


148  NO  CROSS,   NO  CROWN 

for  your  princedom  till  you  go  halting  on  the 
thigh  ?  You  ask  for  a  very  full  assurance  of  God's 
love,  a  brightness  of  faith  that  no  cloud  can  dim. 
Well,  are  you  willing  to  be  deprived  of  the  whole 
sunshine  of  your  world-life  first,  that  in  the  dark- 
ness you  may  see  the  stars  which  day  conceals  ?  " 
Self-sacrifice  looks  a  God-like  thing  in  Jesus 
Christ — a  noble  thing  in  Paul ;  but — in  myself  1 
Ah,  there  it  often  looks  too  hard  to  be  endured ! 
For,  besides  the  difficulty  of  beginning  such  a 
life,  there  is  the  further  difficulty  of  continuing  in  it, 
even  when  it  grows  harder  with  the  years.  When 
Jesus  said  to  His  disciples,  "Ye  are  they  who 
have  continued  with  Me  in  My  temptations,  and 
I  appoint  to  you  a  kingdom  as  My  Father  hath 
appointed  unto  Me,"  they  seem  to  have  imagined 
that  the  whole  of  the  warfare  was  past ;  and  so  He 
needed  to  add  that  the  throne  was  for  those  that 
followed  Him,  not  only  in  what  they  had  already 
given  up,  but  in  what  they  would  still  have  to  bear. 
"  My  baptism  of  blood,"  He  said,  "  is  before  Me 
yet ;  will  you  share  it  ?  You  have  left  all,  but  will 
you  hear  all  ?  You  have  given  up  your  oiun  cup  of 
earthly  joy,  will  you  drink  My  cup  of  earthly  suffer- 
ing too  ?  "  The  inexorable  law  for  all  disciples  is 
this  :  if  no  cup,  no  kingdom ;  if  no  baptism,  no 
throne  ;  if  no  Bethany  (the  house  of  sorrow),  no 
Jerusalem  (the  vision  of  peace).  James  never 
thought  he  would  have  suffering  to  pass  through 
ere  his  crown  was  won — suffering  that  made  him 


NO  CROSS,  NO  CROWN  149 

fall  a  martyr  for  his  Lord  beneath  Herod's  sword. 
John  never  calculated  on  long  years  of  banish- 
ment on  Patmos  ere  he  should  see  the  chariot  that 
would  take  him  home.  But,  by  things  they  did 
not  desire,  they  reached  the  thing  they  did  desire, 
and,  like  thousands  more,  they  found  their  ever- 
lasting profit  in  the  losing  of  their  prayers. 

Well  will  it  be  for  me  if,  when  any  lusting  after 
high  things  stirs  in  me,  I  hear  my  Master  remind- 
ing me  that  the  only  high  things  it  is  safe  for  me  to 
seek  are  the  high  attainments  of  holy  feeling,  holy 
living,  and  holy  fellowship  with  Him.  These  best 
gifts  I  may  covet  earnestly,  for  against  this  kind 
of  covetousness  there  is  no  law.  I  am  safe  in 
wishing  to  be  as  a  star  that  excels  in  glory,  if 
only  I  mean  by  that,  to  be  a  bright  reflector  of 
the  image  of  my  Lord. 


XXII 
SWOED  AND  FIKE 

"  I  am  come  to  send  fire  on  the  earth ;  and  what  will  I,  if  it  be 
already  kindled  ?  " — Luke  xii.  49. 

"  Suppose  ye  that  I  am  come  to  give  peace  on  earth  ?  I  tell  you, 
Nay ;  but  rather  division." — Luke  xii.  51. 

I  CAN  easily  understand  the  astonishment  of  the 
disciples  as  they  heard  their  Master  unfold,  in 
varying  phrase  and  metaphor,  the  terrible  dangers 
lying  in  front  of  them — dangers  on  which  they  had 
not  calculated  when  they  began  to  follow  Him.  I 
can  imagine  this  astonishment  expressing  itself  in 
their  very  looks,  till  Jesus,  seeing  it,  only  empha- 
sised the  warnings  already  given  :  "  Have  you  really 
been  supposing  that  such  a  mission  as  Mine  will 
leave  the  world  to  slumber  on  in  peace  ?  Have  you 
really  been  thinking  of  a  bright  and  easy  path  to 
victory  ?  I  tell  you.  Nay ;  peace  is  only  the  far- 
off  issue ;  the  nearer  issues  will  be  strife  and  war." 
It  must  have  come  upon  them  as  a  terrible  dis- 
enchantment,  this  picture   of    the   enmities   and 

150 


SWORD  AND   FIRE  151 

commotions  that  would  inevitably  be  produced  by 
His  great  cleansing  and  redeeming  work.  Yet 
His  fore  warnings  were  the  fore  warnings  of  love, 
a  love  that  would  not  let  them  be  taken  by 
surprise  when  all  unprepared. 

But  could  there  be  a  more  striking  proof  of  the 
searching  character  of  His  gospel  than  is  given  in 
these  questions  of  His  ?  The  Gospel  that  would 
eventually  destroy  the  world's  strifes  would  begin 
by  kindling  fiercer  discords  than  it  cured.  Hallow- 
ing and  beautifying  all  human  relationships  even- 
tually, it  would  begin  by  rending  asunder  even  the 
sacredest  of  all.  It  would  be  like  the  new  wine 
which  bursts  the  old  bottles ;  the  cleansing  fire 
which  first  turns  corruption  into  a  blazing  wreck  ; 
the  terrible  tornado  which  is  needed  to  sweep 
pestilence  away,  before  the  fever-smitten  world  can 
be  brought  back  to  joyous  health.  For  Christ 
must  always  be  a  great  Destroyer  before  He  is  a 
great  Restorer ;  and  the  Lord  is  not  afraid  of  the 
storm  of  frenzied  opposition  which  He  stirs  in  the 
earth.  To  timid  and  ignorant  men,  the  strifes  and 
hatreds  occasioned  by  His  gospel  seem  only  death- 
jpains^  and  they  cry  out  that  all  is  lost.  To  Him, 
they  are  only  hirth-^ains,  through  which  the 
glorious,  golden  future  is  being  born.  They  only 
show  "the  whole  creation  groaning  and  travailing 
in  pain,  waiting  for  the  manifestation  of  the  sons 
of  God." 

In  this  question  of  my  Master's,  therefore,  I  find 


152  SWORD  AND  FIRE 

what  I  often  greatly  need — a  corrective  to  the 
desponding  thoughts  occasioned  by  witnessing  the 
slow  progress  of  His  kingdom  upon  earth.  He 
gives  me  here  a  key  to  what  is  most  perplexing 
and  discouraging  in  the  history  of  the  Church. 
In  looking  at  the  world  still,  I  am  to  see  only  the 
process  of  preparation,  not  the  grand  result ;  and 
since  I  can  see  that  the  process  exactly  corresponds 
to  His  predictions  I  can  be  sure  that  the  predicted 
end  of  the  process  will  also  come.  All  the  com- 
motions of  the  world  are  only  parts  of  His  plan 
and  "the  end  is  not  yet."  In  ever-varying  ways 
the  world  is  seeking  to  be  its  own  Messiah,  for 
men  will  try  their  own  ways  before  settling  humbly 
and  gladly  to  God's  ;  they  try  their  best  to  make 
their  own  Messiah's  kingdom  before  they  will 
accept  the  Lord's.  But  as  each  of  its  efforts  in 
succession  fails  I  know  that  it  will  soon  be  at  the 
end  of  all  its  resources  and  be  ready  for  the  long- 
rejected,  patiently-waiting  Christ,  whom  it  will  at 
last  accept  as  its  King  of  Righteousness  and  King 
of  Peace. 

So  I  am  not  "  disturbed  or  shaken  in  mind  "  by 
what  I  daily  read  and  hear  of  the  enmities  excited 
by  His  gospel  in  heathen  lands,  or  of  the  outcries 
raised  at  home  against  all  who  would  stand  forth 
for  God,  and  fight  the  cold  self-interest  and  greed 
of  gain  that  so  bitterly  oppose  every  effort  to  purify 
either  national  or  social  or  domestic  life.  This  is 
only  a  proof  to  me  that  my  Master's  words  are 


SWORD  AND  FIRE  153 

being  verified,  and  that  assures  me  that  His  other 
words  about  the  ultimate  victory  of  truth  and 
righteousness  will  be  verified  as  well.  What  if  God 
is  only  slowly  developing  a  far-reaching  plan  by 
which  He  will  make  the  world  sicli  of  its  follies, 
weary  of  its  strifes  and  sins,  and  so  wean  it  from 
them  all  and  draw  it  to  Himself  ?  Every  coming 
of  Christ  seems  in  its  process  to  contradict  its 
result.  The  devil  dies  hard,  always.  When  the 
evil  spirit  was  exorcised  by  Christ's  omnipotent 
voice,  it  tore  the  man  from  whom  it  was  about  to 
go — tore  him  by  a  worse  paroxysm  than  ever,  seek- 
ing to  kill  him  in  the  very  act  of  leaving  him.  That 
is  often  seen,  both  in  the  healing  of  the  individual 
soul,  and  in  the  healing  of  the  world  at  large. 
Wherever  Christ  comes,  He  comes  by  processes 
that  seem  to  contradict  the  very  purpose  of  His 
coming.  I  must  therefore  "judge  nothing  before 
the  time."  When  the  Lord  cometh  He  will  show 
that  all  has  been  done  in  the  only  way  it  could  be 
done,  for  permanent  blessing  to  men  and  eternal 
glory  to  Himself. 

I  can  find  here,  too,  a  probable  reason  for  many 
"  overturnings  "  in  my  own  personal  life  ;  for  there 
must  be  a  breaking  up  of  all  delusive  peace  that  I 
may  find  the  true.  I  cannot  enter  the  kingdom  of 
peace  except  through  "tribulation"  of  some  kind 
— tribulation  outwardly  or  tribulation  inwardly — 
tribulation  that  seems  at  its  coming  to  portend 
only  disaster  and  ruin.     I  needed  once  the  sharp 


154  SWORD  AND  FIRE 

sword  of  the  Spirit  to  cut  deep  into  my  proud  self- 
righteousness  and  lay  bare  the  secrets  of  my  soul. 
I  still  need  the  fire  of  trial  to  purge  away  my 
earthliness  and  burn  up  corruption  within  me  ;  for 
if  *'a  man's  foes  are  those  of  his  own  household,'' 
his  very  worst  foes  are  those  of  his  own  heart; 
and  only  by  a  complete  overturning  there,  can  the 
way  be  prepared  for  Christ  to  reign  as  the  Lord  of 
my  life,  and  bring  His  own  blessed  purity  and  peace 
into  me  for  ever. 

Then,  as  to  God's  dealings  with  me  in  the 
outward  things  of  my  life,  there  is  nothing  strange 
in  the  fact  that  they  should  often  be  like  fire  and 
sword,  if  the  issue  of  them  is  to  be  the  joy  of  holi- 
ness and  the  vigour  of  spiritual  health.  I  speak 
too  often  of  the  " mysteriousness "  of  suffering; 
for,  any  mysteriousness  that  may  be  in  it  arises 
from  this  alone,  that  my  will  and  God's  will,  my 
aim  and  God's  aim,  do  not  run  together,  but  are 
opposed  to  each  other  at  every  point.  If  I  am 
planning  and  working  for  one  thing,  and  God  is 
planning  and  working  for  a  wholly  different  thing, 
there  must  be  trouble  and  collision  as  the  result. 
If  I  make  it  my  chief  aim  to  be  successful  in  the 
world,  to  get  out  of  it  what  it  can  yield  of  comfort 
to  me,  to  gratify  as  far  as  I  can  all  my  natural 
likings,  to  pass  as  pleasantly  as  I  can  through  my 
threescore  years  and  ten,  leaving  all  higher  con- 
siderations completely  out  of  view;  and  God  is 
wishful  to  make  me  rather  fall  in  with  His  idea  of 


SWORD  AND  FIRE  155 

what  my  chief  end  in  life  should  be,  viz.,  to  glorify 
Him  by  an  obedient  spirit  and  make  these  earthly 
years  a  preparation  for  the  service  of  the  everlast- 
ing ages,  these  are  two  completely  opposite  schemes 
of  life,  and  it  is  no  wonder  that  when  they  clash 
there  should  be  trouble  and  unrest.  But  there  is 
no  "mystery"  in  it.  The  trouble  is  inevitable  so 
long  as  my  will  and  God's  will  do  not  run  together. 
All  those  sharp  dealings  with  me  that  make  the 
world  less  attractive  and  God  more  ;  those  strokes 
of  His  that,  just  when  I  have  filled  my  cup  and 
am  about  to  drink  it,  dash  it  suddenly  from  my 
lips ;  that,  just  when  I  have  made  my  golden  calf 
and  am  about  to  worship  it,  shatter  it  in  pieces 
before  my  eyes ;  that,  just  when  I  have  settled 
comfortably,  saying,  "  Soul,  take  thine  ease," 
desolate  my  home  and  overturn  my  happiness  at 
a  blow — all  these  things,  mysterious,  perhaps,  if 
only  my  earthly  peace  comes  into  view,  are  easily 
accounted  for  when  I  see  that  it  is  not  my  earthly 
peace  that  God  is  working  for,  but  a  peace  more 
satisfying,  more  pure,  more  lasting  by  far ;  and  so 
I  learn  to  welcome  the  "sword"  that  slays  my 
selfishness  and  the  "fire"  that  purges  my  sin,  for 
I  know  that  God's  "  thoughts  towards  me  are 
thoughts  of  peace  and  not  of  evil,  to  give  me  His 
expected  end."  Would  that  I  could  make  it  my 
honest  prayer  that  this  purifying  process  may  go 
on  till  it  is  complete  ! 

Then,  as  to  the  coming  of  His  kingdom  in  the 


156  SWORD  AND  FIRE 

world  at  large,  let  me  ask  myself  if  I  enter  suffi- 
ciently into  the  intense  eagerness  of  my  Lord  to 
see  that  established  everywhere  at  whatever  cost. 
Let  me  ponder  His  words,  "  I  have  a  baptism  to 
be  baptized  with,  and  how  is  my  soul  straitened 
till  it  be  accomphshed  ?  "  ''Oh,  that  this  destroy- 
ing yet  purifying  fire  were  kindled  everywhere  and 
burning  everywhere  to-day  !  "  Do  I  so  long  for 
the  reign  of  purity  ?  Am  I  as  willing  to  suffer  if 
only  it  can  be  hastened  ?  Is  the  sin  and  misery 
of  the  world  as  great  a  burden  on  my  heart  as  they 
were  on  His  ?  Can  I  send  the  prayer,  "  Thy 
kingdom  come,"  like  a  fire-ball  crashing  through 
all  my  own  ambitions,  and  burning  up  whatever 
stands  in  that  kingdom's  way  ?  It  is  a  searching 
question  ;  let  me  not  shrink  from  putting  it — am  I 
not  willing  merely,  but  eager  for  that  kingdom's 
coming  and  ready  to  suffer  anything  in  order  to 
bring  it  nigh  ?  Oh  !  to  be  more  like  Him,  both  in 
His  zeal  for  God  and  in  His  love  to  men ! 


XXIII 
DELAY  IS  NOT  DENIAL 

"  Shall  not  God  avenge  His  own  elect,  which  cry  day  and  night  unto 
Him,  though  He  bear  long  with  them  ?  I  tell  you  that  He  will 
avenge  them  speedily.  Nevertheless  when  the  Son  of  man  cometh, 
shall  He  find  faith  on  the  earth  ?  " — Luke  xviii.  7,  8. 

It  can  hardly  be  doubted  that   the  Master  was 

speaking  here,  not  so  much  of  prayer  for  personal 

and  private  need,  as  of  prayer  for  the  coming  of 

His  kingdom  in  the  earth.     This,  therefore,  is  His 

encouragement   to  me  to  continue   steadfastly  in 

intercessory  prayer.     He  tells  me  that,  though  I 

am  to  be  "  always  ready,  not  knowing  what  hour 

my  Lord  may  come,"  I  am  not  to  be  disheartened 

or  dismayed  if  His  coming  is  long  delayed,  or  if 

He  seems  to  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  my  importunate 

cry ;   for  the  incessant  cry  will  bring  a   glorious 

answer,  which  may  come  "  speedily,"  or,  as  His 

Word   seems    to   mean,    ''  suddenly,"  when   least 

expected,  and  with  an   overwhelming  power  pro- 
is? 


158  DELAY  IS  NOT  DENIAL 

portioned  to  the  length  of  the  delay.      So  I  am 
"  always  to  pray,  and  not  to  faint." 

I  must  stir  up  my  heart  to  take  a  larger  share  in 
this  kind  of  prayer  than  I  have  been  accustomed 
to  do.  The  glory  of  my  Lord  demands  this.  The 
command  of  my  Lord  impels  to  this.  The  interests 
of  my  own  soul  are  bound  up  with  this.  I  cannot 
expect  large  answers  to  my  private  prayers  if  I 
forget  the  interests  of  my  Lord  in  other  souls  than 
my  own.  Self-centredness  in  prayer  is  as  hurtful 
as  selfishness  in  anything  else. 

It  was  said  of  Christ  in  ancient  prophecy 
"prayer  shall  be  made  for  him  continually."  It  is  a 
wonderful  honour  given  to  me,  that  I  should  pray 
for  Christ,  as  much  as  He  prays  for  me ;  and  yet 
how  little  in  this  do  I  resemble  Him !  There  is 
no  work  I  can  do  on  earth  more  like  the  great 
work  He  is  doing  in  heaven ;  for  ''  He  ever  liveth 
to  make  intercession."  When  I  pray  for  the 
sinful  that  they  may  be  converted  to  God,  I  am 
imitating  Him  who  said,  "  let  it  alone  this  year 
also,  and  if  it  bear  fruit,  well."  When  I  pray  for 
relatives  and  friends,  I  can  speak  of  them  as  He 
did  who  prayed  for  "those  whom  thou  hast  given 
me."  When  I  pray  for  the  holiness  of  the  Church, 
I  am  only  echoing  the  great  high-priestly  prayers  of 
the  seventeenth  of  John.  It  was  said  of  Him 
"He  shall  not  fail,  nor  he  discouraged,  till  He  ha,ve 
set  judgment  in  the  earth."  Surely  I  am  likest 
Him  when  I  pray  undiscouraged,  too;    and  here 


DELAY  is  NOT  DENIAL  159 

on  earth  keep  on,  as  He  does  in  heaven,  "  expect- 
ing till  His  enemies  be  made  His  footstool." 
Would  that  I  could  imitate  more  closely  the 
unresting  but  unhurrying,  always  working  and 
always  interceding  Christ !  But  I  cannot  say 
what  Thomas  Scott  once  said,  *'  the  duty  of  inter- 
cession is  that  one  in  which  I  have  failed  the 
least ;  "  for  it  is  perhaps  that  in  which  I,  and  most 
disciples,  fail  the  most. 

To  help  me  to  it,  let  me  remember  three 
things  :  first,  that  Christ  Himself  has  shown  me 
the  order  in  which  my  prayers  should  move,  by 
teaching  me  to  put  first  ''  Thy  name  be  hallowed. 
Thy  kingdom  come,  Thy  will  be  done  on  earth  as  in 
heaven,"  and  only  after  that,  "give  me  my  daily 
bread,  forgive  me  my  sins."  Surely  I  am  wrong 
when  I  put  that  last  which  He  puts  first,  and 
make  those  things  my  chief  petitions  which  He 
makes  only  secondary  ones.  Secondly,  that  Bible 
records  show  God  honouring  intercessory  prayer 
by  larger  answers  than  those  given  to  personal 
ones,  and  perhaps  for  this  reason,  that  there  is  less 
of  selfishness  in  them.  Thirdly,  that  every  great 
revival  in  the  Churches  has  begun  in  intercessory 
prayer,  and  been  sustained  by  that  all  through. 
Never  has  there  been  a  great  revival  or  advance, 
but  intensified  persevering  prayer  has  ushered  it  in. 
Never  has  there  been  this  interceding  prayer,  but 
revival  has  come  as  the  answer  to  it.  Franklin 
hit  the  truth  when  he  said,  "  Kindle  the  dry  sticks 


160  DELAY  IS  NOT  DENIAL 

and  the  green  will  catch."  If  the  Church  is 
kindled,  the  world  will  be ;  and  the  kindling  comes 
by  prayer. 

It  does  seem  distressingly  slow  work,  this  work 
of  winning  the  world  for  Christ  by  effort  and 
prayer.  To  any  other  eye  than  the  eye  of  faith 
it  must  look  hopeless  work  ;  for  only  the  spell  of  a 
delusive  optimism  can  prevent  me  being  appalled 
at  the  real  condition  of  the  world  ;  a  thousand 
millions  of  the  race  still  strangers  to  any  form  of 
Christianity ;  two-thirds  of  nominal  Christendom 
lapsed  into  an  apostasy  hardly  better  than 
paganism ;  and  of  the  remaining  third  only  a 
meagre  proportion  really  spiritual  Christians.  If 
I  look  at  the  small  results  gained  in  the  centuries 
that  are  past,  and  then  begin  to  calculate  how  long, 
at  the  same  rate  of  progress,  the  victory  of  Christ 
will  be  delayed,  there  is  little  left  for  me  but 
despair. 

But  my  Master's  words  encourage  me.  His 
"  speedily "  may  not  be  mine,  if  to  Him  a 
thousand  years  are  as  one  day  is  to  me.  The 
crowning  victory  viay  be  only  on  the  horizon  yet. 
Still,  He  has  Himself  anticipated  all  my  doubts  by 
going  to  the  right  hand  of  power,  and  pleading 
there  as  he  asks  me  to  keep  pleading  here.  If  I 
make  the  fact  that  past  prayers  have  not  been 
answered  a  reason  for  ceasing  to  pray  any  more, 
that  would  only  prove  that  the  past  praying  had 
not  been  the  praying  of  faith.     To  real  faith,  the 


DELAY  IS  NOT  DENIAL  161 

delay  of  the  answer  is  only  an  evidence  that  the 
moment  for  answering  is  nearer  than  it  ivas. 

It  is  good  to  be  grieved  that  God  is  still  so 
widely  dishonoured  as  He  is.  He  still  sets  His 
"  mark  upon  the  foreheads  of  the  men  that  sigh  and 
cry  for  all  the  abominations  that  are  done  in  the 
city."  It  is  good  to  be  thus  in  sympathy  with  His 
own  feelings  of  grief  over  the  sins  of  men.  But  if 
it  is  good  to  "  sigh,"  it  is  better  still  io  pray.  The 
"sighing"  is  a  thing  that  ends  with  itself.  The 
"praying"  begins  the  restoration.  And  the  prayer 
that  brings  the  blessing  must  be  prayer  that  is  not 
afraid  to  ask  great  things  from  God  ;  that  does  not 
think  it  is  asking  too  much,  when  it  asks  all  that 
the  promises  of  God  contain,  all  that  the  merits  of 
Christ  have  purchased,  all  that  the  Father's 
infinite  love  can  bestow.  It  is  my  Christian 
privilege  and  my  Christian  duty  in  one,  to  be  so 
emphatically  and  perseveringly  a  "remembrancer 
of  God,"  that  before  I  have  passed  away  from  life 
below,  I  shall  have  prayed  often^  specifically,  and 
by  name,  for  every  friend  I  have  on  earth,  for  every 
interest  of  Christ  in  any  land,  and  for  every  nation, 
country,  tribe  that  the  great  world  contains.  Inter- 
cession should  be  as  an  atmosphere  that  bathes  me 
every  hour.  When  I  read  the  news  of  the  day, 
and  am  saddened  by  the  ever-recurring  tale  of 
crime,  and  vice,  and  misery,  and  sin,  in  every  city, 
and  almost  every  village  of  the  land,  why  should 
not   a  silent  prayer  accompany  the  reading  that 

12 


162  DELAY  IS  NOT  DENIAL 

grieves  my  heart?  When  writing  to  an  absent 
friend,  why  should  not  my  letter  be  sealed  with  a 
prayer  ?  When  passing  along  the  street,  witness- 
ing some  act  of  cruelty,  hearing  some  swearer's  oath, 
marking  some  drunkard's  reeling  steps,  why  should 
I  not  instantly  pray  for  these  sinful  ones  as  well 
as  mentally  condemn  them  ?  Even  when  seated 
in  the  house  of  prayer,  why  should  not  supplication 
for  those  beside  me  there,  for  the  preacher,  that 
power  from  on  high  may  accompany  his  word,  for 
the  hearers,  that  a  bow  drawn  at  a  venture  may 
find  its  mark,  be  going  up  to  God  from  me, 
unknown  to  any  one  else  ?  would  not  my  own  soul 
thus  grow  into  a  truer  fellowship  with  my  Master  ? 
Would  I  not  myself  grow  much  in  tenderness  and 
in  zeal  ? 

The  Lord's  closing  question,  when  speaking  about 
prayer,  not,  perhaps,  addressed  to  the  disciples 
so  much  as  to  Himself — a  soliloquy  rather  than  a 
question — "  nevertheless,  when  the  Son  of  Man 
Cometh,  shall  He  find  faith  on  the  earth?"  suggests 
the  sad  possibility  that  a  faith  such  as  will  keep 
on,  praying  and  expecting  in  the  face  of  every 
delay,  will  almost  have  disappeared  from  His 
disciples'  hearts,  before  the  great  hour  strikes  in 
which  all  past  prayers  will  be  answered  to  the  full. 
It  is  a  pious  imagination  that  both  the  world  and 
the  Church  will  grow  gradually  better  before  the 
appearing  of  the  Lord.  He  Himself  does  not  seem 
so  to  think.  He  rather  hints  that  the  last  days  may 


DELAY  IS  NOT  DENIAL  163 

be  the  worst,  that  faith  in  His  promise  will  almost 
disappear,  that  the  world  will  be  more  madly 
defiant  than  ever,  as  in  the  old  days  of  Noah 
before  the  Flood ;  and  that  His  disciples  will  be 
fewer  and  more  discouraged  than  ever,  just  before 
He  comes  to  "  avenge  His  own  elect,"  and  answer 
the  cries  of  centuries.  His  word  "speedily"  should 
rather  be  translated  "  suddenly";  and  hints  at  His 
coming  being  of  the  nature  of  an  ^onexi^ected,  as 
well  as  an  overwhelming  blow.  Just  when  all  the 
world  is  saying  "  where  is  the  promise  of  His 
coming  ?  "  He  will  arise,  and  show  Himself,  and 
the  light  of  His  face  will  be  as  a  judgment-sword. 
I  need  not,  therefore,  be  alarmed  when  things 
seem  to  be  only  growing  worse ;  I  know  by  that 
that  His  coming  must  be  nigh,  and  I  will  be  one 
at  least  of  His  "  remembrancers  "  who  "  give  Him 
no  rest  "  till  He  has  set  up  His  glorious  kingdom 
everywhere,  as  He  alone  can  do. 


XXIV 
BLINDNESS 

*'  Can  the  blind  lead  the  blind  ?  shall  they  not  both  fall  into  the 
ditch?"— Luke  vi.  89. 

A  QUESTION  this  that  came  out  of  the  Lord's  deep 
pity  for  the  rejectors  of  His  words.  There  was 
nothing  in  it  of  superciHousness.  There  was  only 
an  infinite  compassion.  The  disciples,  officious 
and  fussy  as  usual,  said  to  Him,  "  Knowest  Thou 
that  the  Pharisees  were  greatly  offended  by  that 
saying  of  Thine  about  defilement  of  the  soul  being 
a  much  more  serious  thing  than  defilement  of  the 
hands  ?  "  Poor  simple  souls  !  They  were  going 
to  teach  their  Master  caution !  They  were  afraid 
He  was  becoming  too  outspoken,  and  too  regard- 
less of  the  possible  consequences  of  denouncing 
Pharisaic  hypocrisy  as  He  did.  They  hinted  that 
it  was  not  wise,  or  safe,  to  excite  enmity  in  that 
way ;  and  would  seem  to  have  suggested  that  He 
should    do   something   to    conciliate   these  proud 

164 


BLINDNESS  165 

rejectors  of  the  truth ;  should  soften  down  the 
truth  a  little,  and  take  off  the  keenness  of  its  edge ; 
for  the  Master  said,  "  No,  let  them  alone ;  it  is  not 
conciliation  they  need,  it  is  opened  eyes  :  they 
are  utterly  blind,  and  yet  profess  to  be  leaders  and 
guides ;  and  they  are  accepted  as  such,  because 
the  men  that  defer  so  to  their  leading  are  as  blind 
as  themselves.  I  pity  them  for  it;  but  their  anger 
does  not  touch  Me  in  the  least.  I  know  the  secret 
of  it — they  know  not  what  they  do :  they  count 
God's  wisdom  foolishness  because  they  have  not 
the  seeing  eye." 

I  cannot  but  note,  in  this,  my  Master's  sublime 
indifference  to  the  opinion  of  men  :  but  I  note, 
too,  that  underneath  that  there  was  an  infinite 
compassion ;  and  I  would  need  to  be  very  Christ- 
like in  this  pity,  before  I  can  venture  to  take  that 
attitude  of  calm  indifference  to  the  opinion  of  the 
world  about  me.  Nothing  is  easier  than  to 
assume  an  attitude  of  superiority  to  the  opinion 
of  other  men,  in  mere  self-complacent  pride.  If  I 
am  encased  in  a  lofty  conceit  of  my  own  superior 
insight,  and  have  an  egotistical  idea  of  my 
superior  knowledge,  I  may  too  easily  call  myself  a 
"  defender  of  the  faith,"  while  I  am  only  a 
defender  of  my  own  self-importance.  I  need 
much  of  my  Master's  humility,  and  much  of  His 
divine  compassion  too,  before  I  can  adopt  His  tone 
of  calm  indifference  to  what  the  world  may  say  of 
me.     Before  I  condemn  the  blindness  of  others,  I 


166  BLINDNESS 

must  be  very  sure  that  I  myself  do  see :  but, 
having  my  Master's  spirit,  I  may  be  as  careless 
about  the  world's  anger  as  my  Master  was. 

Let  me  seriously  ponder  my  own  need  of  a 
thoroughly-opened  eye  if  I  am  not  to  be  what  He 
condemned,  "  a  blind  leader  of  the  blind."  I  may 
be  called  to  be  a  preacher  of  divine  truth :  I  may 
be  a  teacher  of  the  young;  I  may  be  a  parent, 
called  to  instruct  my  children  in  the  things  of 
God ;  I  may  be  simply  one  friend  giving  advice  to 
another  in  some  perplexity  of  conscience,  some 
difficulty  of  faith,  some  doubt  as  to  the  path  of 
duty.  In  any  of  these  capacities  it  is  sadly 
possible  that  I  may  only  lead  astray,  unless  I 
myself  am  unmistakably  and  consciously  and 
continually  taught  of  God.  For  even  the  smallest 
of  these  things  I  need  wisdom  from  on  high, 
since  a  mistake  of  mine  may  be  most  seriously 
hurtful  to  other  souls.  Mistakes  in  lower  matters 
than  these  may  be  trivial,  however  great  the  loss 
thereby  incurred,  compared  with  mistakes  in 
matters  of  the  soul.  Mistaken  advice  on  some 
matter  of  worldly  business  may  be  fraught  with 
consequences  deplorable  enough,  if,  in  these,  I  am 
a  "blind  leader  of  the  blind."  My  unwise  and 
incompetent  advice  may  lead  a  trustful  friend  to 
bankruptcy.  Mistaken  advice  even  in  questions 
of  science,  or  literature,  or  art — the  advice  of  an 
incompetent  guide — may  be  serious  too  in  many 
of  its  effects.     Yet  these  are  only  trifles  compared 


BLINDNESS  167 

with  the  danger  of  misleading  souls  in  the  matter 
of  their  relations  to  God.  In  this  region  my 
blindness  may  be  absolutely  fatal :  and  I  must 
seek,  therefore,  daily,  the  clear  vision  of  a  Spirit- 
opened  eye. 

Having  that,  I  may  comfort  myself  with  the 
thought  that,  if  my  report  of  what  I  see  is  re- 
jected by  those  that  cannot  see,  I  am  faring  no 
worse  than  my  great  Master  did.  Like  Him,  I 
may  "  possess  my  soul  in  patience,"  and  pity  the 
blindness  that  I  cannot  cure.  For  the  world  is 
blind  to  the  things  of  God.  ''  It  receiveth  them 
not,  neither  can  it  know  them,  for  they  are  only 
spiritually  discerned."  Only  spiritually-minded 
men  can  see  spiritual  things.  It  is  as  true  to-day 
as  it  was  twenty  centuries  ago  that  '*  the  god  of 
this  world  has  blinded  the  minds  of  them  that 
believe  not."  The  reason  why  they  are  "  alien- 
ated from  the  life  of  God  "  is  the  "  ignorance  that 
is  in  them,  through  the  blindness  of  their  hearts.'" 
Clear  intellect  and  a  blinded  heart  may  sometimes 
go  together  :  but  really,  in  the  things  of  God,  if 
the  heart  is  blinded  the  intellect  is  blinded  too. 
The  brightest  genius,  able  to  see  with  marvellous 
penetration  into  the  secrets  of  creation,  will  be 
utterly  blind  to  the  mysteries  of  grace  and  god- 
liness, if  unenlightened  with  the  Light  of  Life : 
like  the  great  Earl  of  Chatham,  who,  after  listen- 
ing to  a  sermon  by  Eichard  Cecil  on  the  agency  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  upon  the  believer's  soul,  declared 


168  BLINDNESS 

he  could  not  in  the  least  understand  what  the 
preacher  meant ;  and,  asking  if  there  were  any  in 
the  congregation  who  did  understand  it,  was 
surprised  to  be  told  of  poor,  unlettered  men  and 
w^omen  to  whom  it  was  all  not  only  completely 
clear,  but  also  a  message  of  purest  joy. 

I  may  possibly  be  able  to  remember  the  time 
when  these  things  w^ere  mysteries  to  myself : 
when  I  almost  ridiculed  the  truth  I  was  then  too 
blind  to  see.  Let  me,  therefore,  be  tender  with 
the  blinded  world  around  me;  and  only  pray  that 
its  eyes  may  be  opened,  as  mine  needed  to  be,  to 
see  the  glory  of  what  it  despises  now.  My  own 
truest  life  is  "  hid,"  and  cannot  be  understood  by 
unspiritual  men.  The  sustenance  of  my  soul  is  a 
"hidden  manna."  I  have  "meat  to  eat  that  the 
world  knows  nothing  of."  The  "name  on  the 
white  stone  "  is  one  that  "no  man  knoweth  save 
he  that  receiveth  it."  "  The  world  knoweth  us 
not,  because  it  knows  Him  not  "  ;  and  I  cannot 
make  the  world  see  the  secret  that  makes  my  life 
so  wholly  different  from  its  own.  I  cannot  even 
describe  it :  for  the  very  language  I  would  need 
to  use  would  be  as  unintelligible  to  the  unspiritual 
as  a  foreign  tongue.  My  secret  joys  and  my 
hidden  sorrows  are  alike  mysterious  to  them.  My 
lamentations  over  sin  in  myself  and  in  others,  and 
my  raptures  of  joy  over  fellowship  with  God,  are 
utterly  strange  to  them.  They  hear  me  speak  of 
them,  and  cannot  understand  what  I  would  be  at. 


BLINDNESS  169 

The  strength  and  comfort  I  find  in  prayer  they 
know  nothing  of,  for  prayer  to  them  is  only  a 
dreary  and  useless  formality.  When  I  talk  to 
them  about  the  sanctification  of  the  Sabbath,  it  is 
nearly  impossible  to  get  from  them  the  slightest 
sign  of  any  true  appreciation  of  the  blessedness  of 
a  day  devoted  to  higher  communion  of  spirit  with 
God.  To  them  it  is  only  a  weariness  for  which 
they  must  seek  distraction.  Any  sacrifices  I 
make  willingly  :;!or  Christ  are  foolishness  to  them. 
My  resolute  abstention  from  all  that  would  be 
inconsistent  with  the  will  of  an  invisible  Master 
they  call  ridiculous  scrupulosity  or  bigotry.  What 
appears  to  me  only  simple  obedience  to  God's  holy 
will  they  deride  as  a  "  being  righteous  overmuch." 
They  "  think  it  strange  that  I  do  not  run  with 
them  in  the  same  excesses  in  which  they  find 
their  pleasure " ;  strange,  because  they  cannot 
so  much  as  comprehend  feelings  and  ambitions 
higher  than  their  own.  The  reason  of  it  all  is 
this,  that  they  are  "blind."  I  will  not  be  angry 
with  them,  or  even  greatly  surprised.  I  will  only 
pity  them,  and  pray  that  they  may  see.  It  is  not 
more  light  that  the  world  needs  :  there  is  plenty 
of  light.  It  is  an  opened  eye  to  see  it.  Light 
is  the  remedy  for  darkness,  not  for  blindness. 
Heaven's  light  may  be  condensed  into  a  point  of 
surpassing  brilliance  by  a  burning-glass ;  but  if  a 
blind  eye  is  exposed  to  it  not  a  whit  will  that  eye 
see  :  it  will  only  be  consumed.     It  ought  to  be  my 


170  BLINDNESS 

daily  prayer  for  myself,  "  Lord,  that  my  eyes  be 
opened";  and  my  daily  prayer  for  the  world  too. 
"What  a  pitiable  condition,"  says  one,  "is  the 
world  in !  its  own  guide^  and  that  guide  stark 
blind ! " 


XXV 

THOUGHT-EEADING 

"  What  was  it  that  ye  disputed  among  yourselves  by  the  way  ?  " — 
Mark  ix.  33. 

This  was  not  a  question  for  information^  but  for 
conviction.  The  Master  had  been  going  on  before, 
preoccupied  with  greater  things  ;  and  the  disciples, 
lingering  behind  Him  and  knowing  He  was  too  far 
off  to  overhear  them,  began  a  talk  which  they 
fancied  would  remain  a  secret  among  themselves. 
How  taken  aback  they  must  have  been  by  His 
sudden  question  as  they  sat  together  in  the  house, 
*' What  was  it  you  disputed  about  on  the  way  ?  " 
They  *'  held  their  peace " ;  and  no  wonder. 
Shame  sealed  their  lips.  But  He  did  not  need 
to  wait  till  He  was  told.  He  showed  them  in  a 
moment  that  He  had  been  reading  them  all  the 
time.  His  action  here  reminds  me  of  Elisha 
when  his  servant  Gehazi  ran  after  Naaman  to 
get  from  him  the  reward  his  master  had  refused 

171 


172  THOUGHT-READING 

to  take,  and  returning,  stood  before  his  master 
unabashed.  "Went  not  mine  heart  with  thee," 
said  the  prophet,  "when  the  man  turned  again 
from  his  chariot  to  meet  thee  ?  "  and  then  pro- 
ceeded to  tell  the  astonished  servant  all  that  had 
been  in  his  thoughts  as  he  came  back,  "buy- 
ing olive-yards  and  vineyards,  and  sheep  and  oxen, 
and  men-servants  and  women-servants,"  with  the 
product  of  his  sixfold  lie.  "  Thought-reading " 
with  a  vengeance,  that ! 

But  this  is  how  I  must  think  of  my  Master  too. 
I  like  to  feel  that  He  is  a  gracious,  tender,  pitying 
one ;  but  do  I  think  sufficiently  of  Him  as  a  keen 
heart-searching  one  as  well  ?  I  like  to  think  of 
His  eyes  as  eyes  of  compassion,  eyes  that  wept, 
eyes  from  which  tears  of  sympathy  dropped  at 
Bethany,  and  tears  of  sorrow  on  Olivet  as  He 
gazed  down  upon  the  doomed  Jerusalem.  But 
what  a  holy  heart-reader  too  He  is  !  "  His  eyes 
are  as  a  flame  of  fire."  For  three-and-thirty 
j^ears  He  walked  about  the  world,  an  unsuspected 
reader  of  all  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  every 
one  in  the  crowds  that  met  or  followed  Him. 
Even  His  disciples  little  knew  the  sharpness  of  the 
glance  that  pierced  all  the  motives  and  ambitions 
of  their  souls.  How  terribly  disconcerting  it 
would  have  been  to  them  had  they  known  that 
their  Master's  eye  was  always  looking  them 
through  and  through !  How  terrible  it  would 
have  been  to  Judas  had  he  known  that  all  his  base 


THOUGHT-READING  173 

treachery  had  been  detected  by  that  eye  as  soon  as 
it  was  conceived  !  How  disconcerting  to  Peter 
had  he  realised  that  his  base  cowardice  had  been 
detected  before  a  single  word  of  denial  had  passed 
his  lips  !  How  great  a  blow  it  would  have  been  to 
James  and  John  had  they  suspected  that  their 
proud  ambition  had  been  seen  by  their  Master's 
eye,  before  the  least  suspicion  of  it  had  occurred 
to  any  of  their  brethren ! 

But  this  thought-reading,  heart-searching  Christ 
is  looking  me  through  every  day  as  clearly  as  He 
looked  through  any  of  thein.  Surely,  if  I  only 
realised  that  fact  I  would  be  holier  than  I  am. 
Alas !  my  Master's  omniscience  is  often  to  me  a 
doctrine  only,  and  not  a  reality.  It  has  a  place  in  my 
creed  but  hardly  any  in  my  conscience.  If  "  every 
imagination  of  the  thoughts  of  my  heart  "  is  known 
to  Him  as  soon  as  it  is  known  to  myself,  it  is  a 
marvel  of  divine  mercy  that  He  bears  with  me  as 
He  does,  or  suffers  me  to  remain  in  His  disciple- 
ship  for  a  single  day ! 

Most  men  prize  the  seclusion  of  liome  because 
there  they  are  so  greatly  free  from  the  scrutiny  of 
unfriendly  eyes  ;  and  in  their  own  private  chamber 
in  that  home  they  feel  more  secluded  still.  It  is  a 
relief  to  them  to  be  able  to  retreat  to  it  and  feel 
that  there  there  is  not  a  single  spectator  watching 
them.  They  have,  perhaps,  some  little  secret 
plans  which  they  can  ripen  there,  some  private 
hobbies    which    they    can  cultivate   there,   some 


174  THOUGHT-READING 

invention  which  they  can  perfect  there,  or  they 
can  read  books  there  which  they  would  be  half 
ashamed  to  be  seen  reading  publicly ;  they  can 
gratify  there  any  secret  craving  they  may  have 
for  intoxicating  drink.  Something  or  other, 
whether  lawful  or  sinful,  makes  that  secret 
chamber  free  from  prying  eyes,  a  luxury  or  a 
relief.  If  I  ever  feel  so,  let  me  remember  that, 
strictly  speaking,  I  have  never  a  single  hour  of 
such  seclusion.  I  am  always  watched.  All  that 
I  even  think  there  is  completely  known.  And 
known  to  whom  ?  It  would  be  a  terrible  enough 
answer  to  that  question  if  it  were  only  this,  "  to  the 
Jioly  dead  "  :  if  I  should  see  those  who  have  passed 
on  within  the  veil  looking  down  on  me,  and 
reading  me  as  they  could  never  do  before;  if  I 
should  think  of  a  father,  a  mother,  a  husband, 
a  wife  who  died  believing  in  my  truth  and  purity, 
now  seeing  me  with  the  mask  torn  off.  Yet  if 
these  were  the  only  spectators  looking  me  through 
and  through,  their  inspection  could  be  endured 
somehow.  If  the  spectators  were  even  holy  angels, 
that  also  could  be  endured.  But  the  Witness  of 
my  most  secret  life,  who  is  every  moment  reading 
me  as  an  open  book,  is  the  Christ  whom  I  profess 
to  follow,  the  Christ  whom  I  profess  to  love  above 
all,  the  Christ  who  died  for  me  on  very  purpose  to 
have  me  as  true  and  pure  as  He  Himself  is,  my 
Saviour  and  my  Master  in  one.  Must  not  His 
look,  as  He  sees  my  heart-faithlessness  and  sin,  be 


THOUGHT-READING  175 

a  look  of  the  same  kind  as  He  cast  on  Peter  in  the 
judgment-hall  when  that  poor  disciple  had  so 
cruelly  denied  Him — a  look,  not  of  mere  scrutiny, 
nor  of  anger,  nor  of  regret,  but  of  wounded 
affection  ;  the  grieved  look  of  one  who  is  experienc- 
ing the  keen  agony  of  witnessing  the  utter  faith- 
lessness of  a  friend  who  had  often  professed  to  be 
the  truest  friend  He  had. 

How  many  a  crime  would  have  been  prevented 
had  even  the  eye  of  a  child  been  in  the  room  or  on 
the  paper  when  the  act  was  done !  Should  the 
eye  of  a  child  have  such  power  as  that,  and  my 
Master's  eye  have  no  such  deterrent  power  over 
me?  When  Latimer  was  being  examined  before 
Bishop  Bonner,  at  first  he  answered  somewhat 
carelessly;  but,  hearing  the  rustling  of  a  pen 
behind  the  tapestry  on  the  wall,  and  perceiving 
that  all  his  words  in  what  he  thought  a  secret 
chamber  were  being  taken  down,  he  became  much 
more  prudent  and  cautious  in  his  replies.  Oh  for  a 
more  constant  sense  of  the  invisible  pen  in  the 
invisible  hand  of  Him  who,  though  behind  the 
veil,  has  eyes  that  pierce  not  only  it,  but  my  own 
heart  too,  who  too  often  live  as  though  I  were 
unwatched  by  any  except  myself ! 

The  thought  of  His  unsleeping  eye  ever  watch- 
ing over  me  is  comforting  enough ;  but  how  do  I 
feel  about  the  inspection  of  an  unsleeping  eye  that 
is  always  looMng  into  me  ?  That  might  well  be 
a  terror   to  me  as   it  was  to  the  prisoner  in  the 


176  THOUGHT-READING 

narrow  cell  which  had  one  small  opening  in  the 
door  behind  which  a  sentry  stood,  whose  eye  was 
never  taken  off  the  prisoner  for  a  moment,  night  or 
day.  At  first  it  was  only  a  trifling  annoyance,  but 
as  days  and  weeks  wore  on,  it  became  an  intoler- 
able torture  to  the  mind ;  for  that  glaring  eye 
pursued  him  round  the  cell ;  it  was  never  shut 
and  never  turned  away ;  its  glare  became  an  agony, 
and  led  to  madness  in  the  end.  The  eye  of  the 
invisible  Christ  is  as  truly  ever  upon  me.  Dislike 
it  as  I  may,  that  remains  a  fact.  Let  me  realise  it 
as  a  fact,  and  live  so  that  I  shall  not  fear  its  glance. 
If  there  are  thoughts  in  my  mind,  at  which,  when 
I  realise  what  they  mean,  I  myself  would  blush; 
emotions  of  the  heart  at  which  I  tremble  and 
recoil ;  movements  of  will  that  alarm  me  because  I 
see  what  a  deep  depravity  they  reveal,  how  much 
more  would  I  be  ashamed,  if  I  but  remembered, 
"  Tliou  understandest  my  thoughts  afar  off,  "or heard 
my  God  say  to  me,  "  I  know  the  thoughts  that  come 
into  your  mind,  every  one  of  them  "  ?  Let  me  ask, 
therefore,  what  the  eye  of  my  Master  sees  in  my 
heart  to-day :  faith  or  faithlessness  ?  love  or 
coldness  ?  a  striving  after  nobler  things,  or  con- 
tented declension  ?  He  sees  every  motive  actuating 
me,  every  feeling  that  sways  me.  How  much, 
then,  does  He  see  done  from  love  to  Him  ?  how 
much  from  love  to  myself  ?  how  much  for  the  sake 
of  winning  the  praise  of  men  ?  how  much  from  a 
concern   for  the   glory  of  God?     Is  the  look  He 


THOUGHT-BEADING  177 

bends  on  me  to-day  a  look  of  sorroio  for  my  world- 
liness,  of  surprise  at  my  unsteadfastness,  of  grief 
for  my  forgotten  vows  ?  or  is  it  one  of  ajpproval  for 
my  constancy,  of  encouragement  for  my  timidity, 
of  love  for  my  true  though  imperfect  love  to 
Him? 

If  in  answering  such  questions  I  am  covered 
with  shame,  and  shrink  from  the  glance  that 
reveals  my  sin,  let  the  place  into  which  I  shrink 
be  the  shadow  of  the  cross.  An  infinite  atonement 
alone  can  comfort  me  when  I  really  see  myself. 
But  the  Holy  One  is  the  Forgiving  One,  and  is 
"ready  to  forgive."  Let  me  tell  Him  all,  and 
then  He  will  show  me  the  riches  of  His  grace. 
But  sin  must  be  confessed  by  the  sinner  before  it 
is  pardoned  by  the  Judge.  It  is  only  when  I  deal 
honestly  with  my  sin  that  God  deals  tenderly  with 
me. 


13 


XXVI 

UNTHANKFULNESS 


"  Were  there  not  ten  cleansed,  but  where  are  the  nine  ?  " — Lukb 
xvii.  17. 


What  chiefly  impresses  the  listener  here  is  not 
the  wonderful  exhibition  of  the  Lord's  jjoiver,  in 
healing  these  lepers  without  a  touch,  without  any 
outward  sign,  without  even  a  word  commanding 
the  disease  to  depart ;  nor  His  equally  wonderful 
Omniscience,  His  certainty  that,  on  their  way  to 
the  priests,  the  cure  had  actually  taken  place  :  but 
rather  His  grieved  disappointment,  arising  from 
the  unthankfulness  of  the  healed.  Accustomed 
though  He  had  long  been  to  the  ingratitude  of 
men,  this  new  exhibition  of  it  went  to  His  heart. 
He  wanted  no  honour  for  Himself.  It  was  His 
Father's  honour  He  was  concerned  about.  He  did 
not  say,  '*  there  hath  not  returned  to  thank  Me, 
except  this  stranger";  but  "there  hath  not 
returned  to  give  glory    to  God.''      It   was   "the 

178 


UNTHANKFULNESS  179 

Father  dwelling  in  Him  who  did  the  works  " ; 
and  to  see  Him  dishonoured  by"  His  own,"  while 
an  outsider,  a  Samaritan,  gave  instant  thanks, 
was  a  sharper  sorrow  to  the  Lord  than  any  despite 
to  Himself.  This  thanklessness  of  the  healed  was 
one  of  the  many  "  sufferings  of  Christ  "  ;  and  yet 
how  meekly  He  took  it !  The  harshest  thing  He 
said  about  it  was  only  "  Where  are  the  nine  ?  " 

I,  too,  am  amazed  they  did  not  hurry  back,  like 
the  one  Samaritan,  to  throw  themselves  gratefully 
at  their  great  Healer's  feet.  Perhaps  what  held 
them  back  was  fear  of  the  priests,  who  were 
angry  enough  at  Christ  already,  and  would  not 
hesitate  to  vent  their  rage  on  any  who  spoke  well 
of  Him,  a  rage  which  the  Samaritan  stranger  could 
afford  to  despise;  or  possibly  they  may  have 
said  to  themselves,  "Time  enough  for  thanks 
when  we  have  first  proved  the  permanence  of  the 
cure";  or  perhaps,  like  thousands  everywhere, 
they  were  so  full  of  the  thought  of  now  being  able 
to  get  back  to  their  homes  and  businesses,  so 
absorbed  by  recalling  their  happy  past,  and  vision- 
ing  a  still  happier  future,  that  they  had  no  further 
thought  to  spare  for  the  gracious  One  who  had 
set  them  free.  But  I  seem  to  see  a  truer  reason 
for  it  still.  The  7iine  had  thought  only  of  His 
w^onderful  poioer.  The  poor,  despised  Samaritan 
thought  also  of  His  deep  compassionating  love, 
a  love  that  pitied  and  healed  even  him ;  and  it  is 
love  alone  that  ever  leads  to  thankfulness.     There 


180  UNTHANKFULNESS 

was  no  sense  of  obligation  in  the  nine.  They 
almost  felt  that,  being  Jews,  they  had  a  sort  of 
claim  to  any  blessing  that  others  of  Israel  were 
receiving  at  this  Prophet's  hands.  The  poor 
Samaritan  could  claim  nothing,  and  his  sense  of 
obligation  was  all  the  deeper  for  that. 

This  feeling  in  the  nine  is  not  yet  extinct  among 
men,  though  it  takes  a  slightly  different  form.  It 
is  one  of  the  cant  phrases  of  our  day  that  every 
man,  be  his  personal  character  and  habits  what 
they  may,  has  a  right  to  live,  and  to  live  in  the 
enjoyment  of  what  he  calls  a  living  wage;  and 
that  if  he  cannot  get  that  for  himself,  the  State 
must  provide  it  for  him.  Essentially  this  is  pure 
irreligion,  and  proud  irreligion  too  ;  for  when 
analysed  it  makes  God  the  debtor  and  man  the 
creditor,  who  may  say  to  God, ''  Pay  me  that  Thou 
owest."  No  man  ever  comes  into  his  right  posi- 
tion as  a  sinner  before  God  till  he  feels  himself 
ivortliy  of  nothing^  and  is  therefore  tlianhfiilfor  any- 
thing. Jacob's  way  of  it  was  the  only  befitting 
way,  *'I  am  not  worthy  of  ^the  least  of  all  the 
mercies  which  Thou  hast  shown  unto  Thy  servant." 
I  may  have  rights  as  against  my  brother  man,  but 
I  have  no  rights  as  against  my  God.  I  can  only 
be  an  everlasting  bankrupt  debtor  to  His  free  love. 

Well,  I  condemn  these  unthankful  nine ;  but 
let  me  ask  if  I  am  not  too  like  them  myself. 
Mercy  infinitely  larger  and  more  wonderful  than 
they  received,  has  come  from  my  God's  hands  to 


UNTHANKFULNESS  181 

me.  Blessing  upon  blessing  has  been  falling  over 
me,  not  for  one  day  merely,  but  all  my  life  through. 
I  am  "crowned  with  his  loving-kindness  and 
tender  mercy."  "I  cannot  reckon  up  in  order 
His  benefits  :  if  I  should  declare  and  speak  of  them, 
they  are  more  than  can  be  numbered."  Yet  where 
has  there  been  any  thankfulness  or  thanksgiving 
in  me  commensurate  to  these  countless  gifts  from 
Him  ?  If  He  were  to  show  me,  as  He  alone  could 
do,  the  ivliole  of  the  "  great  goodness  "  with  which 
He  has  been  enriching  me  ever  since  I  was  born, 
my  life  would  seem  only  one  great  golden  chain 
of  mercies,  link  clasping  link,  each  hour  a  link, 
and  each  day  lengthening  the  chain,  a  chain  of 
blessings  all  undeserved,  but  all  most  generously 
given.  And  yet,  must  not  His  verdict  upon  me 
be  that  sad  one  passed  upon  King  Hezekiah,  '■'■  He 
rendered  not  again  according  to  the  benefit  done 
to  him,  for  his  heart  was  lifted  up  "  ? 

I  am  not  only  indebted  to  a  Father's  care,  I 
am  indebted  also  to  a  Saviour's  grace  :  a  most 
compassionate  Saviour,  who  brings  me  better  than 
all  earthly  gifts,  who  brings  me  pardon,  healing, 
life  within ;  whose  hand  of  love  holds  out  to  me 
bright  hope  and  heavenly  comfort,  rest,  holiness, 
and  peace ;  a  cleansing  of  my  soul  from  its  foul 
leprosy  of  sin ;  the  new  health  that  is  only  the 
beginning  of  a  health  that  will  last  for  ever.  I 
may  well  say,  "  Bless  the  Lord,  0  my  soul,  and 
forget  not  all  His  benefits." 


182  UNTHANKFULNESS 

But  "  all  His  benefits  "  ?— how  shall  I  set  them 
down?  In  any  attempted  enumeration  of  them 
I  would  know  neither  where  to  begin,  nor  how  to 
end.  "  What  shall  I  render  to  my  Lord  for  all 
these  benefits  of  His  grace,  so  infinitely  grander 
than  the  best  blessings  of  His  earthly  care  ? 
The  only  coin  I  can  pay  Him  in  is  that  which 
comes  from  His  own  mint.  I  can  give  to  Him 
only  what  He  first  gives  to  me,  but  I  will  try 
to  pay  Him  in  the  only  way  He  wants — hy  the 
^praise  of  a  devoted  life;  for  if  thanlisgiving  is 
good,  thanJcsliving  is  better  still.  My  Lord  has 
kept  nothing  back  from  me;  I  will  keep  nothing 
back  from  Him.  My  Lord  gave  His  whole  life  for 
me ;  I  will  give  my  whole  life  to  Him.  My  Lord 
died  for  sin ;  I  will  die  to  sin,  for  His  dear  sake. 
He  rose  from  the  grave  for  me ;  I  will  rise  out  of 
the  dead  things  of  the  world  for  Him,  and  "walk 
in  newness  of  life."  He  sJioived  Himself  alive 
from  the  dead ;  I  will  show  openly  that  I  am 
risen  in  Him.  He  is  working  for  me  still,  using 
the  "  all  power"  given  Him,  in  my  behalf;  He  is 
preparing  a  place  for  me ;  I  will  work  for  Him,  I 
will  use  all  my  power  in  His  behalf,  I  will  prepare 
a  larger  and  worthier  place  for  Him  in  this  heart 
of  mine.  He  is  ever  interceding  for  me,  I  will 
ever  intercede  for  Him ;  I  will  bear  His  interests 
on  my  heart,  as  He  is  bearing  my  interests  on  His ; 
I  will  plead  daily  for  His  coming  to  His  kingdom 
upon  earth,  as  He  is  pleading  for  my  coming  to 


UNTHANKFULNESS  183 

His  kingdom  in  the  heavens.  My  Lord  paid  all 
His  vows  for  me.  He  vowed  to  give  Himself  an 
atonement  for  my  sins,  and  make  my  salvation  sure  : 
how  well  He  paid  the  vow!  There  was  no 
repenting  of  it,  no  drawing  back  when  the  payment 
was  an  agony  ;  and  He  did  that  "  in  the  presence 
of  all  the  people,"  for  all  heaven  saw  it  andrejoiced. 
"  Now,  I  will  pay  my  vows  to  Him,  and  I  will  do  it 
in  the  presence  of  all  the  people,"  for  all  shall  see 
that  it  is  no  vain  boast  that  I  make  when  I  say, 
"  0  Lord,  I  am  Thy  servant  for  ever,  for  Thou  hast 
loosed  my  bonds." 

If  there  is  one  thing  more  than  another  that 
must  make  me  "return  to  give  glory  to  God,"  it  is 
the  remembrance  of  what  a  loathsome,  hopeless 
leper  I  was  before  He  healed  me.  This  "  purging 
from  my  old  sins"  I  must  never  forget.  It  will 
keep  me  humble,  but  it  will  keep  me  praiseful  too. 
If  I  am  now  a  "  child  of  God,"  I  must  never  forget 
that  once  I  was  only  a  "  child  of  wrath,  even  as 
others."  If  I  am  now  a  stone  in  the  living  temple, 
I  must  never  forget  "  the  rock  out  of  which  I  was 
hewn."  If  I  am  now  one  of  His  vessels  of  honour, 
fashioned  by  Himself  and  for  Himself,  I  must 
often  think  of  "  the  hole  of  the  pit  out  of  which  I 
was  dug,"  when  there  was  ''  no  difference  "  between 
me  and  the  rest  of  the  clay.  If  I  am  now  one  of 
the  Good  Shepherd's  flock  that  shall  "never 
perish,"  I  must  often  recall  that  in  the  days  of 
my    foolish     rebellion    I    "  wandered    upon    the 


184  UNTHANKFULNESS 

mountains,  lost.  All  that  I  have  ever  been  or  done 
is  worthy  of  sorrow  and  shame ;  but  what  God  has 
done  for  me  is  worthy  of  an  endless  song.  My 
gracious  Lord  has  long  been  lifting  my  burdens 
and  bearing  my  loads ;  and  He  promises  to  go  on 
doing  it  to  the  last — "  Even  to  your  old  age,  I  am 
He ;  and  to  hoar  hairs  I  will  carry  you.^'  He  is 
worthy  of  His  hire  ;  and  all  the  hire  He  asks  is  the 
grateful  praise  of  the  soul  that  He  is  carrying. 


XXVII 

THE   ALL-SUFFICING   CHRIST 

•'  Will  ye  also  go  away  ?  "—John  vi.  67. 

Did  the  Master  ever  ask  a  more  jpatlietic  question 
than  this  ?  I  recall,  in  connection  with  its  under- 
tone, how  a  good  man  once  said,  when  thinking  of 
the  base  treatment  to  which  God  is  subjected  by 
an  unfeeling  world,  "  I  feel  such  a  pity  for  God." 
Strange  though  the  expression  may  be,  I  am  in- 
clined to  echo  it  in  thinking  of  the  treatment  my 
Master  met  with,  when,  after  His  long  and  loving 
outpouring  of  truth  to  the  crowds  that  followed 
Him  for  loaves  and  fishes,  they  would  not  let  it  get 
a  lodgement  in  their  hearts  at  all.  They  had  no 
fault  to  find  with  Him  as  a  man,  but  His  spiritual 
teaching  was  both  too  lofty  for  their  low  sym- 
pathies and  too  humbling  for  their  proud,  worldly 
hearts.  The  sovereignty  of  God,  the  need  of 
having  this  Christ  as  the  very  food  of  their  souls, 
the  giving  of  His  flesh  for  the  life  of  the  world — 

185 


186  THE  ALL-SUFFICING  CHRIST 

these  things  offended  them  just  as  the  same  things 
are  offending  thousands  still.  As  they  listened  they 
were  first  considerably  interested,  then  greatly 
astonished,  then  absolutely  enraged.  Their  pride 
rose  up  against  doctrines  that  humbled  them  so 
much,  and  they  pretended  not  to  understand  what 
really  they  understood  well  enough,  but  only 
heartily  disliked.  With  an  air  of  superiority  they 
said,  "  Who  ever  heard  such  absurdities  as  these? 
This  Man  give  us  His  flesh  to  eat !  He  is  only 
befooling  us  with  talk  like  that."  And  so  they 
"  went  back,  and  walked  no  more  with  Him." 

This  defection  of  theirs  was  only  natural.  Even 
Christ  Himself  could  not  have  been  surprised  at 
it.  But  how  greatly  it  saddened  the  meek  and 
patient  Lord  I  can  see  in  the  very  tone  of  His 
question  about  it  to  the  Twelve,  "  Will  ye  also  go 
away?  "  He  was  not  doubting  them.  His  words 
might  be  more  accurately  rendered,  "  Yoic  do  not 
wish  to  go  away,  do  you  ?  "  And  there  I  see  the 
human  heart  of  the  Master  longing  for  their  out- 
spoken sympathy  at  a  very  discouraging  time. 

Still,  it  was  meant  to  test  them;  and  right  nobly 
did  Peter  answer  for  them  all,  "  Lord,  to  whom 
shall  we  go  ?  Thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal  life ; 
and  we  believe  and  are  sure  that  Thou  art  that 
Christ,  the  Son  of  the  Living  God."  That  was 
Peter  at  his  very  best.  That  quick,  eager,  un- 
hesitating and  undoubting  reply  came  from  his 
very  heart.     He  was  now  a  better  disciple  than  he 


THE  ALL-SUFFICING  CHRIST  187 

had  been.  He  had  learned  much  by  that  wonder- 
ful experience  of  his  on  the  water  of  the  lake,  in 
the  storm  of  the  day  before.  All  the  next  day, 
too,  as  he  listened  to  his  Master's  words,  he  had 
been  lifted  into  higher  regions  of  faith  and  dis- 
cernment than  he  had  ever  reached  till  then  ;  and 
all  his  thoughts  were  at  last  focussed  into  one 
bright  spot  of  loving  trust  and  glad  assurance, 
"  Lord,  there  is  none  else  for  any  of  us  to  go  to 
now.  To  leave  Thee  would  be,  for  all  of  us,  only 
blank  despair." 

There  are  times,  in  my  life,  too — perhaps  to-day 
is  one  of  them — when  I  seem  to  hear  my  Master 
putting  His  pathetic  question  also  to  me,  and 
when  I  would  need  to  be  able  to  answer  it  for 
myself  as  Peter  did.  In  an  age  like  this,  when 
doubt  is  everywhere,  when  remorseless  hands  are 
busy  with  attempts  to  pull  down  the  most  sacred 
and  venerable  beliefs,  when  the  air  is  loaded  with 
the  mephitic  vapour  of  sceptical  reasonings,  and  I 
must  breathe  it  whether  I  will  or  not ;  when  covert 
sneers  as  well  as  open  assaults  on  the  faith  meet 
me  in  books  and  magazines;  when  "culture" 
ridicules  me  as  being  behind  the  age,  and  these 
repeated  shocks  produce  an  unsettlement  within, 
loosening  the  stones  of  my  faith-temple,  if  they  do 
not  overturn  them  altogether,  so  that  I  seem  to 
have  no  longer  the  old  comfort  and  the  old  cer- 
tainty and  the  old  rest  that  were  once  so  sweet,  I 
may  surely  ask  myself,  as  Peter  did,  "Supposing 


188  THE  ALL-SUFFICING  CHRIST 

that  I  give  up  my  faith  in  Christ,  as  I  am  tempted 
to  do,  what  will  I  put  in  its  place  ?  Whom  will  I 
put  in  His  place  ?  What  substitute  for  Christ  and 
the  old  gospel  will  I  find?  What  other  message 
of  peace  will  I  get  that  will  meet  my  need  and 
satisfy  it  so  well?  If  Christ  is  henceforth  to  be 
nothing  to  me  (for  if  I  doubt  Him  in  one  thing  I 
must  doubt  Him  in  all),  what  other  friend  is  there 
to  whom,  in  my  sin  and  sorrow,  I  can  as  safely  and 
as  comfortingly  cling  ?  " 

I  may  ask  those,  too,  who  would  shake  me  out  of 
my  old  faith  in  the  Word  of  God,  "What  other 
light  do  you  propose  to  put,  or  suggest  may  be  put, 
in  the  place  of  this,  that  will  bless  the  world  one 
ten  thousandth  part  as  much  ?  If  you  take  away 
from  me  my  faith  in  the  reality  of  this  Christ,  if 
you  will  no  longer  let  me  think  of  Him  as  an 
atoning  Saviour,  and  thus  deprive  me  of  all  the 
brightness  which  has  long  illuminated  my  darkness 
here,  and  all  the  joyous  hope  that  stretches  away 
beyond  this  life  altogether,  how  do  you  propose 
to  compensate  me  for  the  loss  ?  Will  any  other 
gospel,  or  other  faith,  or  other  hope  do  as  much 
to  cheer  me,  to  ennoble  me,  to  draw  out  all  that 
is  finest  in  devotion  and  loftiest  in  aim  ?  "  Let 
me  ask  all  this,  and  think  what  the  only  possible 
answer  to  such  questions  must  be ;  and  then, 
though  I  may  be  shaken  somewhat  for  a  time 
by  the  assaults  I  have  to  face,  I  will  be  sure,  ere 
long,  to  return  joyfully  to  my  old  rest  and  say. 


THE  ALL-SUFFICING  CHRIST  189 

**  Lord,  to  whom  but  unto  Thee  can  I  go  ?  "  Even 
if  the  attacks  sometimes  made  upon  the  old  gospel 
seem  so  strong  that  I  begin  to  fear  that  the  founda- 
tions of  God's  city  have,  at  last,  been  greatly 
undermined,  the  power  of  these  attacks  to  unsettle 
me  will  be  gone  when  I  confront  them  all  with 
this  one  question,  "  What  other  creed,  what  other 
gospel,  what  other  hope  will  be  so  good  for  living 
men  to  live  by,  and  dying  men  to  die  upon,  as  the 
old,  long-tried,  marvellous  gospel  of  the  crucified, 
risen,  reigning  Christ — that  old  gospel  which  still, 
in  spite  of  a  thousand  attacks,  is  proving  itself  in 
the  experience  of  tens  of  thousands  of  sinners,  to  be 
the  only  cure  for  a  broken  spirit,  the  only  balm  for 
a  wounded  conscience,  the  only  pillow  for  a  dying 
head — the  gospel  which  is  old  as  the  very  Fall,  yet 
new  as  the  new  song  of  the  New  Jerusalem — the 
gospel  that  tells  me  what  I  can  never  tire  of 
hearing  on  earth,  and  what  I  shall  know  in  heaven 
when  it  comes,  that  Christ  is  enough  for  me^  and 
that  Christ  is  all  ?  " 

This  also  suggests  to  me  the  surest  way  of 
overcoming  those  doubts  regarding  my  personal 
salvation  which  often  trouble  me  so  much:  *' Is 
this  Christ  whom  I  have  believed  really  trust- 
worthy enough  for  me  to  risk  my  whole  eternity  on 
His  bare  word  ?  "  He  often  seems  a  dim  and 
shadowy  Saviour.  I  am  not  so  sure,  as  I  once 
was,  that  it  is  He  that  speaks,  or  that  He  speaks  to 
me,  when  He  gives  the  promises  on  which  I  lean. 


190  .         THE  ALL-SUFFICING  CHRIST 

The  voice  is  like  one  that  comes  out  of  an  infinite 
void — a  dream-voice,  and  not  a  real  one  at  all. 
Then,  too,  it  sometimes  seems  as  if  I  needed 
something  more  than  His  simple  promise  to  assure 
my  heart.  I  once  thought  that  was  enough,  but  I 
also  thought  that  by  this  time  I  would  have  had 
far  more  comfort,  and  more  holiness  too,  from 
believing  it  than  I  yet  have  reached ;  and  since 
the  past  has  thus  disappointed  me,  I  am  not  so 
sure  as  I  used  to  be  that  the  future  will  not 
disappoint  me  too. 

In  such  a  mood  of  mind  I  need  not  argue  with 
my  doubts,  for  argument  will  not  end  them.  Let 
me  rather  just  listen  to  the  sorrowful  question  of 
my  Master,  "  Will  you  also  go  away  ?  Supposing 
that  I  fail  you,  to  whom  else  will  you  turn  ?  " 
That  will  show  me  my  sin,  my  ingratitude,  my 
folly,  sooner  than  anything  else.  I  cannot  go  back 
to  my  old  life  in  the  world,  for  I  have  proved  by 
experience  how  unsatisfying  that  would  be.  I 
cannot  shut  out  all  thought  and  be  indifferent ;  I 
know  too  much  for  that.  I  cannot  take  refuge  in 
infidelity ;  my  conscience  is  too  awake  for  that. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  I  cannot  face  the  Holy 
Judge  I  have  to  meet  without  a  righteousness 
infinitely  better  than  my  own  is,  or  ever  will  be, 
without  an  advocate  to  clear  me  at  the  judgment 
bar,  as  this  Christ  offers  to  do.  Well,  if  He  will 
not  be  enough  for  me,  who  will  ?  Who  will  be 
a   sufficient   substitute  for  this   Christ   if  I  give 


THE  ALL-SUFFICING  CHRIST  191 

Him  up  ?    That  question  will  bring  me  back  to 
rest. 

Two  things  were  turning-points  in  Peter's  life  : 
his  Master's  sorrowful  question  and  his  Master's 
sorrowful  looTi.  The  question  decided  him  to 
remain  with  Christ ;  the  look  decided  him  to 
return.  And  lying  behind  his  immediate  feelings 
on  both  occasions  was  the  great  undoubted  fact 
of  his  own  personal  experience  of  his  Master's 
love  and  grace.  When  I  am  shaken  by  speculative 
difficulties  I  will  take  refuge  in  my  personal  exjperi- 
ence  of  my  Lord.  I  know  what  He  has  done  for 
me  and  in  me.  I  could  not  deny  that  if  I  wished. 
And  if  He  ever  sees  me  hesitating  in  my  faith  and 
says,  ''  Will  you  also  go  away  ?  "  I  will  exultingly 
reply,  *'  No,  not  for  a  thousand  worlds.     '  Thou, 

0  Christ,  art  all  I  want,  more  than  all  in  Thee 

1  find,'  '  my  Lord  and  my  God.' " 


XXVIII 
PEOFIT    AND    LOSS 

"  What  is  a  man  advantaged,  if  he  gain  the  whole  world,  and  lose 
himself,  or  be  cast  away  ?  " — Luke  ix.  25. 

"What  is  a  man  profited,  if  he  shall  gain  the  whole  world,  and 
lose  his  own  soul  ?  or  what  shall  a  man  give  in  exchange  for  his 
soul  ?  " — Matthew  xvi.  26. 

There  are  at  least  two  great  surprises  in  these 
questions  of  the  Master's.  The  first  of  them  is 
that  such  questions  should  be  addressed,  not  to 
utterly  irreligious  men,  but  to  His  own  disciples. 
Do  disciples^  then,  need  to  be  warningly  questioned 
thus  ?  Are  even  they  so  liable  to  love  the  world 
in  such  a  way  that  they  may  be  in  danger  of  losing 
their  souls?  But  it  was  to  disci;ples  that  He 
spoke  those  other  words  so  closely  akin  to  these, 
"  Take  heed  to  yourselves  lest  at  any  time  your 
hearts  be  over-charged  with  surfeiting,  and 
drunkenness,  and  cares  of  this  life,  and  so  that 
day  come  upon  you  unawares."     The  Lord  sees 

192 


PROFIT  AND  LOSS  193 

danger  where  I  would  see  none.     He  understands 
my  weakness  better  than  I  understand  it  myself. 

Then  next,  it  is  a  surprise  to  find  that  the  great 
Lord  was  applying  these  questions  to  Himself ! 
They  were  called  forth  by  Peter's  rash  outburst, 
after  being  told  of  the  coming  Cross,  "  that  be  far 
from  Thee  ;  this  shall  not  be  unto  Thee."  Never, 
to  his  dying  day,  would  Peter  forget  how  his 
Master  turned  upon  him,  and  said:  "Get  thee 
behind  me,  Satan !  thou  savourest  not  the  things 
that  be  of  God,  but  the  things  that  are  of  men." 
The  rebuke  was  terrible.  The  revelation  of  Peter's 
hidden  prompter  was  terrible  too.  But  was  there 
not  in  both,  a  back  glance  to  His  own  temptation 
on  the  mountain-top,  where  Satan  offered  Him 
''the  whole  world"  as  the  price  of  His  soul? 
''  all  this  will  I  give  thee  if  Thou  wilt  fall  down 
and  worship  me."  The  same  Satanic  proposal 
came  from  Peter  also.  His  Lord  recognised  its 
parentage  in  a  moment,  and  felt,  ''  Here  is  the  old 
temptation  over  again  "  ;  and  so  He  said  to  Peter, 
"What  would  it  profit  Me  if  I  should,  in  your 
ivay^  gain  the  whole  world,  and  lose  My  own 
highest  and  noblest  life  thereby  ?  "  To  save  the 
lower  life  at  the  expense  of  the  higher  would 
have  been  no  gain  to  Him^  any  more  than  to 
any  of  His  followers,  but  only  everlasting  loss; 
and  therefore  He  says,  "Be  you  all  of  the  same 
mind  with  Me  in  this :  Whosoever  wills,  at  all 
costs,  to  save  his  life,  shall  lose  it ;  but  whosoever 

14 


194  PROFIT  AND  LOSS 

wills,  for  My  sake,  to  lose  his  life,  shall  find  it. 
For  Me,  and  for  you,  self-sacrifice,  obedience  even 
unto  death,  is  the  way  to  honour  and  blessedness 
eternal ;  and  the  only  way."  How  clearly,  here, 
Christ  recognises  the  higher  life  in  man,  which 
may  either  triumph  over  the  lower  life,  or  be  killed 
by  it.  "Lose  yourself ^^  He  says,  "in  the  lower 
meaning  of  self,  and  you  gain  yourself  in  its 
highest  meaning,  its  everlasting  one.  Seeking 
the  life  of  the  flesh,  you  lose  the  life  of  the  spirit, 
— seeking  to  save  what  you  call  yourself,  you  lose 
what  is  really  yourself,  and  are  cast  away." 

These  are  deep  sayings,  and  can  be  understood 
only  by  the  sanctified  feeling  of  a  heart  thoroughly 
renewed,  and  beating  in  perfect  sympathy  with  the 
feelings  and  aims  of  the  heavenly  Lord.  I  must 
read  them  looking  straight  into  the  eyes  of  Jesus 
Christ  Himself.  They  only  reiterate  the  great 
saying — "If  any  man  will  come  after  Me,  let  him 
deny  hwiself,  and  take  up  his  cross  daily,  and 
follow  Me."  That  is  the  unbending,  unchange- 
able, unrepealable  statute-law  of  Christian  dis- 
cipleship,  to  the  end  of  time.  I  cannot  alter  it 
or  soften  it  down.  I  would  not,  though  I  could. 
For  what  it  tells  me  is  that  self-denial  is  only  a 
closer  imitation  of  Christ.  He  calls  it  a  "  coming 
after  "  Him  and  "  following  "  Him ;  and  He  Him- 
self, therefore,  was  showing  the  example  which  all 
disciples  are  to  copy.  He  was  always  carrying  His 
cross ;   not  once  only  in  Jerusalem's  streets,  but 


PROFIT  AND  LOSS  195 

daily,  hourly,  all  His  life  through ;  and  what  He 
asks  of  me  is  this,  that  I  should  carry  my  cross  in 
the  same  spirit  in  which  He  carried  His,  planting 
my  feet  in  His  footprints. 

It  is  very  plain,  then,  that  this  Master  is  abso- 
lutely honest.  He  scorns  the  gaining  of  disciples 
by  false  pretences.  He  will  not  cheat  me  into 
following  Him  by  rose-coloured  pictures  of  His 
service,  which  experience  will  falsify  soon.  With 
absolute  sincerity  He  warns  me,  from  the  first, 
that  it  will  not  be  easy  for  me  to  go  after  Him, 
that  it  will  cost  me  much.  But  then.  He  asks  me 
to  do  nothing  that  He  has  not  done  Himself.  It  is 
a  great  test  this — ''  let  him  deny  himself."  I  must 
deny  my  own  self-estimate^  else  I  will  think  myself 
too  good  to  suffer  for  Christ.  I  must  deny  my 
own  loisdom,  else  I  will  be  too  prudent  to  suffer 
for  Christ.  I  must  deny  my  own  ease,  else  I  will 
be  too  slothful  to  suffer  for  Christ.  I  must  deny 
my  own  interests,  else  I  will  be  too  worldly  to 
suffer  for  Christ.  I  must  deny  my  own  fears,  else 
I  will  be  too  cowardly  to  suffer  for  Christ.  It  is  a 
great  test ;  and  I  am  to  do  this  "daily  "  !  How  can 
I  follow  a  Master  who  asks  so  much  as  that  ?  To 
take  up  the  cross  once  for  all  would  be  easy  com- 
pared with  the  taking  it  up  every  day  afresh.  And 
yet,  if  the  dailiness  of  the  self-sacrifice  seems,  at 
first,  to  intensify  the  pain  of  it, — looked  at  in 
another  light,  it  greatly  diminishes  the  weight. 
It  is  only  the  daily  cross,  to-day's  cross,  that  I  am 


196  PROFIT  AND  LOSS 

asked  to  bear.  My  Master  does  not  ask  me  to  set 
out  by  bearing  all  the  crosses  of  the  next  twenty 
years,  or  even  of  the  next  week.  Indeed  I  have 
not,  to-day,  to  carry  even  the  cross  of  to-morrow ; 
and  for  my  "  daily  cross  "  there  will  be  given  me 
"daily  bread"  to  strengthen  me.  That  dailiness 
of  the  sacrifice  which  seems  to  make  it  harder  is 
the  very  thing  that  makes  it  easier.  He  is  a  good 
Master  after  all. 

I  see,  however,  that  Christ  has  another  question 
still,  which  is  not  merely  a  repetition  of  the  pre- 
vious ones,  rather  a  farther  question  springing  out 
of  them.  He  begins  by  asking  what  I  would  be 
profited  if,  after  labouring  to  gain  all  that  the 
world  can  give  of  pleasure,  comfort,  honour, 
power,  and  sinking  my  higher  life  in  the  search 
for  that,  the  world  passes  away  from  me,  or  I 
from  it,  leaving  me  only  the  bitter  sense  of  an 
everlasting  loss.  But  next,  He  asks  me  another 
question ;  whether,  on  discovering  this  beyond  the 
grave,  I  will  be  able  to  give  God  anything  m  ex- 
change for  my  soul,  that  it  may  be  delivered  from 
the  woe  into  which  my  self-loving  life  has  brought 
it,  any  ransom-;price  for  my  forfeited  "life";  and 
my  only  answer  to  that  second  question  must  be, 
that  in  such  a  case  I  could  have  nothing  of 
sufficient  value  to  offer,  nothing  that  He  could 
possibly  accept.  The  loss  I  suffer  has  this  tre- 
mendous characteristic,  it  caimot  he  retrieved. 

In  making  plans  for  life,  seeking  to  accomplish 


PROFIT  AND  LOSS  197 

some  ambitious  schemes  that  are  to  gratify  my 
love  of  the  world,  I  must  face  the  solemn  possi- 
bility that  in  gaining  these  I  may  lose  myself, 
lose  all  that  is  noblest  in  me,  till  my  soul  has 
become  shrivelled,  withered,  dead.  But  I  am 
not  to  limit  the  range  of  my  self-denial  to  the 
greater  things  of  life.  I  must  let  it  come  down  to 
every  form  of  the  self-life,  not  merely  to  love  of 
wealth  or  power  or  fame,  but  to  much  smaller 
things  than  these.  The  great  occasions  that  call 
for  very  great  sacrifices  of  self  are  comparatively 
rare ;  but  there  are  small  occasions  occurring  every 
day  that  demand  it,  where  the  sacrifice  is  quite  as 
difficult.  It  may  need  much  self-denial  for  a  rich 
man  to  lay  his  money  at  Christ's  feet,  or  for  one 
who  is  in  the  fair  way  of  becoming  rich  to  re- 
linquish the  prospect,  if  the  way  in  which  the 
wealth  is  to  come  is  one  that  conscience  con- 
demns ;  but  it  will  often  need  quite  as  much  self- 
denial  to  do  so  small  a  thing  as  to  suppress  a  jest 
lest  it  should  pain  some  one  that  hears  it,  or  keep 
back  some  clever  witticism  lest  it  should  bring 
sacred  things  into  contempt.  It  may  need  great 
self-denial  for  one  to  leave  house  and  kindred, 
and  spend  all  life  as  a  herald  of  the  Cross  among 
savage  tribes ;  but  it  may  be  quite  as  real  a  self- 
sacrifice  to  remain  at  home  and  stand  out  there, 
boldly  protesting,  by  word  and  act,  against  the 
sins  of  the  day,  at  the  risk  of  making  himself 
unpopular,  and  even  of  losing  some  friendships  that 


198  PROFIT  AND  LOSS 

he  fain  would  keep.  In  every  home,  in  the 
smallest  things,  there  is  large  room  for  self- 
denial,  and  a  loud  call  for  it  too ;  and  say  what 
we  may  about  the  self-denial  needed  in  all  true 
Christian  discipleship,  no  life  is,  after  all,  so 
blessed  as  that  which  is  fullest  of  devotion  to  the 
will  of  God.  Say  what  we  will  about  earthly 
joys,  no  life,  after  all,  is  so  ^poor  a  thing  as  that 
which  is  devoted  to  these  alone.  It  has  "  dis- 
a]);pointmenV'  written  upon  it  while  it  lasts,  and 
"failuee"  written  on  it  in  largest  capitals  when 
all  is  done. 

Let  me  bear  in  mind  that  if  ^^self-preservation 
is  the  first  law  of  nature,^'  self-sacrifice  is  the 
first  laiD  of  grace.  In  the  school  of  Christ,  self- 
denial  is  the  first  thing  taught ;  and  it  is  also  the 
last  thing  thoroughly  learnt.  "  Teach  me,  0  God, 
to  do  Thy  wilV 


XXIX 

A   SEEPENT   IN   PARADISE 


**  Have  not  I  chosen  you  twelve,  and  one  of  you  is  a  devil  ?"- 
John  vi.  70. 


It  was  in  a  noble  burst  of  love  and  loyalty  that 
Peter  replied  to  his  Master's  question,  "Will  ye 
also  go  away  "  ?  by  saying  for  himself  and  all  the 
rest,  "  Lord,  to  whom  shall  we  go  ?  Thou  hast  the 
words  of  eternal  life ;  and  we  believe  and  are  sure 
that  Thou  art  that  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  living 
God."  His  charity  included  all  the  rest  of  the 
little  band.  He  thought  every  one  of  them  must 
feel  as  he  did  himself.  But  the  Lord  saw  deeper 
than  Peter  did,  and  said,  "  You  cannot,  all  of  you, 
echo  these  words  of  faith ;  there  is  one  of  you  who 
even  now  has  thoughts  of  going  away ;  one  who, 
professedly  My  disciple,  is  a  devil  at  heart." 

The  apostasy  of  Judas  was,  even  then,  far  on  its 
way  to  the  final  betrayal,  yet  he  did  not  "  go  away  " 
at  once.    He  sheltered  himself,  for  the  time,  under 

199 


200  A  SERPENT  IN  PARADISE 

Peter's  confession,  and  remained  with  the  Master, 
apparently  as  true  as  any  of  the  rest.  Better 
would  it  have  been  for  him  if  he  had  gone  away ! 
It  would  have  been  more  honest ;  and  there  might 
have  been  the  hope  that,  like  the  prodigal  son, 
he  would  ere  long  have  returned,  humble  and 
penitent,  to  the  Master's  side.  But  hypocrisy, 
pride,  and  covetousness  were  a  threefold  cord  that 
held  him  fast ;  and  under  the  power  of  it  he  kept 
among  the  disciples  still.  Does  this  show  that 
even  false-hearted  men  can  resist  temptation  ? 
Not  so.  It  only  shows  that  a  sufficiently  powerful 
temptation  had  not  yet  come.  Some  men  are  not 
to  be  bought  so  cheaply  as  others  :  but  all  radically 
insincere  men  have  their  price;  and  those  who 
keep  up  longest  the  profession  of  being  true  fall 
more  tragically  than  others,  when  they  do  give 
way. 

This  was  the  Master's  first  intimation  to  the 
disciples,  that  they  had  a  traitor  in  their  midst ; 
and  very  startling  to  them  must  have  been  His 
words,  "  One  of  you  is  a  devil."  His  long  dis- 
course had  been  gradually  winnowing  the  mis- 
cellaneous crowd  that  followed  Him,  till  only 
twelve  men  were  left.  Now,  He  puts  these  twelve 
under  His  winnowing  fan  ;  and  lo !  one  of  them  is 
a  devil ! 

A  very  solemn  thought  presses  on  me  here.  The 
same  sifting  by  the  Word  and  by  Providence  is 
still  going  on  ;  what  if  it  should  be  with  the  same 


A  SERPENT  IN  PARADISE  201 

result?  What  if  the  Lord,  who  is  **  searching 
Jerusalem  with  candles,"  whose  ''  eyes  are  as  a 
flame  of  fire,"  as  He  looks  down  upon  His  great 
professing  Church,  gladdened  by  the  faith  of  some, 
saddened  by  the  hypocrisy  of  others,  should  find, 
not  one  traitor  in  every  ten  thousand — that  would 
be  sad  enough — but  one  traitor  in  every  twelve  ? 
Let  my  question  about  this  be,  not  "  Lord,  who  is 
it  "  ?  but  "  Lord,  is  it  I "?  for  I  would  need  to  look 
well  to  the  reality  of  my  own  discipleship  if  one 
like  Judas  could  fall  so  terribly — a  man  who  had 
long  been  in  the  very  closest  companionship  with 
Christ,  who  had  known  Him  as  few  did,  who  had 
been  commissioned  as  an  apostle,  and  had  been 
endowed,  like  the  rest,  with  gifts  of  healing  and  of 
miracle ;  but  a  man  who  deceived  the  whole  of 
them,  and,  worse  than  that,  deceived  himself. 

Most  depraved  men  have  some  things  about 
them  that  relieve  the  blackness  of  their  souls,  some 
"  good  points  "  that  even  great  wickedness  in  other 
directions  does  not  quite  obliterate.  But  I  search 
in  vain  for  any  of  these  in  Judas.  I  find  in  him  no 
trace  of  generous  impulses,  or  tender  sympathies, 
or  gentle  emotions;  nothing  but  a  cold,  sordid, 
calculating  selfishness,  without  anything  to  relieve 
its  hardness.  Few  men  have  ever  perhaps  been 
more  intensely  bad ;  and  yet  he  had  not  been 
always  so.  In  the  light  of  his  later  years  it  is 
strangely  affecting  to  think  of  him  as  a  little  child 
over  whose  infant  face  a  mother's  eyes  had  often 


202  A  SERPENT  IN  PARADISE 

bent  in  love,  and  whose  responsive  smiles  had  often 
gladdened  that  mother's  heart;  and  then,  as  a 
bright  and  clever  boy,  giving  promise  of  a  manhood 
that  would  be  beautiful  and  good.  A  great  appear- 
ance of  good  must  have  been  in  him  when  the 
Lord  chose  him  as  one  of  the  Twelve ;  for  not  one 
of  the  other  eleven  so  much  as  suspected  him  of 
wrong,  till  very  near  the  end.  Whatever  produced 
it,  the  deterioration  of  his  character  outwardly 
must  have  been  rapid;  though  inwardly  it  had 
been  only  gradual  and  slow.  The  seeds  of  his 
future  sin  were  long  lying  dormant  in  his  soul ;  but 
they  only  waited  the  favourable  circumstances  of 
temptation  and  opportunity  to  spring  to  life  and 
bear  their  noxious  fruit.  His  essentially  worldly 
heart  had,  at  first,  pleased  itself  with  the  hope  of 
wealth  and  power  in  the  kingdom  which  the 
Master  spoke  of  setting  up.  But  as  the  months 
went  on,  he  saw  that  his  glowing  anticipations 
would  not  be  realised.  This  Christ  was  preparing 
for  deaths  and  not  for  a  throne ;  and  the  world- 
loving  heart  of  Judas  was  first  disappointed,  and 
then  enraged,  at  the  spirituality  of  his  Master's 
aims ;  till  in  the  heat  of  his  passion  he  formed  the 
deliberate  purpose  of  sacrificing  that  Master  to  his 
revenge.  Even  when  the  anger  cooled,  the  resolve 
remained,  just  as  the  lava  that  is  poured  red-hot 
from  the  volcano  hardens  into  rock ;  and  in  that 
mood  of  mind  he  was  capable  of  anything.  It  only 
needed  the  farther  thought  that,  since  Christ  would 


A  SERPENT  IN  PARADISE  203 

fall  into  the  hands  of  His  enemies  in  any  case,  he 
might  as  well  profit  by  what  was  unavoidable, — to 
make  him  ready  to  sell  him  for  anything  He  could 
get.  It  is  easy  to  trace  the  process.  Wounded 
self-love,  passing  into  disappointment,  went  on  to 
positive  anger,  and  ended  in  malicious  revenge. 
No  wonder  that  Jesus  said  of  him,  *'  One  of  you  is 
a  deviV  \  for  both  the  feelings  and  the  acts  of 
Judas  were  absolutely  Satanic  at  the  last. 

And  yet  he  was  not  an  absolutely  abnormal 
monster  of  iniquity.  His  sin  was  exceptional  sin, 
only  because  the  circumstances  were  exceptional 
circumstances.  Thousands  of  professed  disciples 
in  the  Church  to-day,  are  already  sinning  in  heart 
as  Judas  did,  and  ready  to  put  the  heart-disloyalty 
into  act,  if  it  should  seem  to  be  for  their  worldly 
interest  to  do  so.  I  am  not  judging  uncharitably ; 
for  I  cannot  shut  my  eyes.  When  I  see  conscience 
and  faith  sacrificed  for  some  lucrative  position ; 
when  I  see  men  trading  upon  their  loud  profession 
of  the  Christian  name,  getting  themselves  thereby 
implicitly  trusted  in  the  administration  of  other 
men's  means,  and  gambling  with  these  means  for 
personal  profit,  bringing  ruin  on  thousands  who 
thought  them  incapable  of  wrong :  or  when  I 
see  some  who  began  their  disciple-life  seemingly 
earnest,  spiritually-minded,  prayerful  and  true, 
gradually  become  so  ensnared  by  love  of  the  world 
as  to  lose  not  only  all  that  earnestness  in  religion, 
but  rehgion  itself,  till  they  are  as  hard  and  dead  as 


204  A  SERPENT  IN  PARADISE 

ever  Judas  was,  I  think,  with  a  shudder  at  the 
heart,  that  this  may  be  the  case  with  many  whose 
inward  hypocrisy  not  one  eye  detects  but  the  eye 
of  Christ ;  I  think,  with  alarm,  how  easy  it  is  to 
open  the  door  for  Satan  to  "  enter  in,"  till  he  has 
made  a  very  devil  of  the  heart  that  thus  ''  gives 
him  place  "  ;  and  I  ask  myself  again,  "  Is  it  I  ?  " 
For,  though  I  may  not — if  I  am  really  the  Lord's 
I  cannot — fall  away  as  Judas  did,  I  may  yet  fall  so 
low  as  greatly  to  dishonour  my  Master,  before  He 
lifts  me  up  and  "  restores  my  soul."  I  may  thank 
God  that  being  "  in  Christ,"  and  not  merely  with 
Him,  I  cannot  perish ;  that  He  will  keep  me  from 
a  final  apostasy,  seeing  that  I  am  "  born  of  God," 
as  Judas  was  not;  that  I  love  Christ,  as  Judas  never 
loved;  that  I  can  say,  "I  know  whom  I  have 
believed,"  as  Judas  never  could  ;  and  yet,  I  may  be 
left  to  fall,  by  my  own  sin,  so  low  as  to  make  me 
almost  indistinguishable  from  a  castaway.  If  it  is 
impossible  to  say  how  far  heavenwards  a  mere 
pretender  can  soar,  it  is  equally  impossible  to  say 
how  far  hellwards  a  truly  regenerated  man  may 
sink.  I  may  fall  back  so  terribly  from  my  "  first 
love  "  as  to  make  it  doubtful  to  myself,  and  to 
every  one  else,  if  I  ever  had  it.  Though  still  a 
child,  I  may  become  such  a  fallen  child,  as  to  make 
it  impossible  to  prove  my  sonship  to  any.  "  Say 
not,"  says  an  old  writer,  "  that  thou  hast  royal 
blood  in  thy  veins,  and  art  born  of  God,  unless 
thou  canst  prove  thy  pedigree  by  holiness  of  life." 


A  SERPENT  IN  PARADISE  205 

I  may  not  be  *'  a  devil,"  as  Judas  was ;  into  his 
awful  sin  I  may  never  fall ;  and  yet  my  Master's 
solemn  question  may  well  make  me  examine  my- 
self, and  consider  how  easy  a  thing  self-deception 
is.  Just  because  I  know  that  I  have  "received  a 
kingdom  which  cannot  be  moved,"  I  am  to  serve 
God  acceptably,  with  reverence  and  godly  fear.'' 
Just  because  a  sure  "  promise  has  been  given  me 
of  entering  into  His  rest,"  I  am  to  ^^  fear  lest  I 
should  come  short  of  it."  Blessed  is  the  man  that 
feareth  alway  " — "  Thinking  I  stand,  I  must  take 
heed  lest  I  fall." 


XXX 

COUKAGEOUS   CALM 

"  Are  there  not  twelve  hours  in  the  day  ?  "—John  xi.  9. 

The  Lord  is  revealing  to  me,  in  this  simple  way,  the 
deep  secret  of  His  own  perfect  peace.  The  disciples 
thought  Him  running  into  danger  without  due  con- 
sideration, and  would  have  kept  Him  back  from  it : 
"  Master,  the  Jews  sought  of  late  to  stone  Thee, 
and  goest  Thou  thither  again?  "  But  He  calmly 
put  the  idea  of  danger  aside,  when  it  was  a  question 
simply  of  fulfilling  the  work  given  Him  to  do. 
"My  life,"  He  said,  "is,  every  moment,  in  My 
Father's  hands;  it  will  be  long  or  short  just  as 
My  Father  wills  ;  I  can  go  fearlessly  wherever  He 
calls  Me  to  go.  With  possible  dangers  in  My  path 
I  have  nothing  to  do.  They  will  not  shorten,  by 
one  hour,  the  time  given  Me  for  finishing  His  work. 
My  only  danger  would  lie  in  refusing  that  work 
through  fear.  To  order  My  own  life  would  be,  even 
for  Me,  to  plunge  Myself  into  darkness  at  once; 

206 


COURAGEOUS  CALM  207 

but  so  long  as  I  am  doing  My  Father's  will,  it  is 
fullest  daylight  with  Me ;  and  I  run  no  risk." 
There  spoke  the  faithful  servant,  and  the  trustful 
Son.  "No  hand  can  touch  Me  till  My  work  is 
done." 

Once  before  He  had  looked  at  that  work  from 
another  side,  the  shortness  of  the  time  for  doing  it 
in.  "I  must  work  the  work  of  Him  that  sent  Me, 
while  it  is  day;  the  night  cometh  when  no  man 
can  work."  The  swift  passing  of  time  and  oppor- 
tunity was,  even  for  Him,  a  call  to  be  up  and  doing ; 
and  His  eagerness  to  complete  His  work  grew  in 
intensity  the  nearer  the  end  came.  It  could  be 
seen  in  His  very  looJiS.  The  disciples,  as  they 
watched  Him,  were  awe-struck  by  His  preoccupied 
expression,  arising  from  the  tension  of  His  spirit. 
"  They  were  amazed,  and  as  they  followed  Him  they 
were  afraid,"  as  if  they  said,  *'  What  can  this 
intense  eagerness  to  go  forward  portend?"  It 
could  be  detected  also  in  His  words,  *'I  have  a 
baptism  to  be  baptised  with,  and  how  is  My  soul 
straitened  till  it  be  accomplished!"  "Straitened," 
as  if  kept  in  by  bonds  of  time  and  space  which 
He  willingly  would  break ;  almost  chafing  at  the 
restrictions  which  He  fain  would  overleap. 

But  here.  He  puts  the  matter  in  another  way. 
"  My  work  is  not  yet  done,  and  My  Father  will 
take  care  of  Me  until  it  is."  In  these  two 
sayings  lies  Christ's  deep  secret  for  faithful 
service ;  a  blending  of  intensest  earnestness  and 


208  COURAGEOUS  CALM 

calmest  trust.  "  I  must  not,  by  indolence  or  self- 
indulgence,  lose  one  moment  of  the  short  time 
granted  Me  for  doing  My  Father's  will — and  I  must 
not,  by  cowardly  fear,  try  to  add  one  moment  to 
My  allotted  time."  Good  Kichard  Baxter  puts  the 
matter  well : — 

"  Lord,  it  belongs  not  to  my  care 
Whether  I  die  or  live ; 
To  love  and  serve  Thee  is  my  share, 
And  that  Thy  grace  must  give. 

If  life  be  long,  I  will  be  glad, 

That  I  may  long  obey : 
If  life  be  short,  should  I  be  sad, 

To  soar  to  endless  day  ?  " 

The  more  closely  I  read  the  Gospel  story  I  am 
sure  to  be  the  more  struck  with  the  significant  fact 
that  Jesus  never  adopted  any  suggestion  made  to 
Him  by  others,  not  even  by  His  best  disciples. 
Even  they  were  always  interfering  with  Him,  and 
seeking,  as  it  were,  to  keep  Him  right !  When 
wearing  Himself  out  with  labours  of  healing  mercy 
prolonged  into  the  night.  His  friends  went  out  and 
sought  to  lay  hands  on  Him,  to  make  Him  cease. 
"  He  is  beside  Himself  "  they  said.  When  Mary, 
at  the  marriage-feast  of  Cana,  said  to  Him,  *'  They 
have  no  wine,"  she  evidently  felt  she  was  making 
a  kind  suggestion,  that  He  should  supply  the  lack. 
He  only  answered,  ''  My  time  is  not  yet  come." 
Peter,  hearing  Him  speak  of  His  coming  death, 
began  to  rebuke  Him,  saying,  ' '  This  shall  not  be 


COURAGEOUS  CALM  209 

unto  Thee."  James  and  John  wanted  Him  to  let 
them  avenge  the  slight  the  Samaritan  villagers  had 
put  upon  Him.  "  Our  Master,"  they  said,  "  is  not 
standing  upon  His  dignity  enough  !  "  *'  Depart 
hence  and  go  into  Judea,"  said  His  brethren,  "  that 
Thy  disciples  also  may  see  the  works  that  Thou 
doest."  They  thought  He  was  hiding  His  light ! 
"  Send  the  multitudes  away  to  buy  bread  "  said  the 
disciples  on  the  hill-side  over  the  lake.  They  would 
let  Him  see  how  considerate  they  were,  if  He  was 
not !  When  some  "  brought  young  infants  to 
Him  that  He  might  touch  them  and  pray,"  the 
disciples  rebuked  the  intruders,  and  expected  His 
thanks !  But  He  only  said,  "  Suffer  the  little 
children  to  come  unto  Me,  and  forbid  them 
not."  When  the  woman  of  Tyre  besought  eagerly 
His  mercy  on  her  daughter  vexed  with  a  devil, 
again  the  disciples  interposed,  "  Send  her  away, 
for  she  crieth  after  us  "  ;  it  was  really  more  than  He 
or  they  should  submit  to,  to  be  troubled  thus  !  So 
here,  too,  they  wanted  to  save  Him  from  being  too 
rashly  careless  of  His  life  !  It  was  all  well  meant, 
but  in  a  blundering  sort  of  way ;  as  if  they  could 
guard  His  health.  His  honour,  His  life  better  than 
Himself.  Every  suggestion  He  calmly  put  aside. 
He  tooTv  suggestions  only  from  His  Father  in  heaven. 
The  will  of  the  Father  was  His  sole  guide  at  every 
moment  of  the  day;  and  therefore,  though  there 
never  was  a  life  more  crowded  with  ceaseless 
activity  than   His,  there  never  was   a   life  more 

15 


210  COURAGEOUS  CALM 

calm.  He  seems  absolutely  free  from  haste  and 
excitement  on  the  one  hand,  and  from  worry  and 
distraction  on  the  other.  Perpetual  interruptions 
by  cavillers  never  discomposed  Him.  Carping 
objections  never  irritated  Him.  Popular  enthu- 
siasm never  carried  Him  away.  Popular  clamour 
never  disturbed  Him.  The  thought  of  possible 
danger  lying  in  front  never  dismayed  Him.  He 
lived  in  absolute  trust,  because  He  lived  in  abso- 
lute obedience ;  and  so  He  had  absolute  peace. 
Even  in  the  very  bitterest  hour  of  darkness  He 
could  say  to  His  disciples  ^^  My  peace  I  give  unto 
you  " — a  peace  that  came  from  such  an  absolute 
oneness  of  will  with  the  Father  about  everything, 
that  nothing  could  shake  it,  even  for  an  hour. 

I  am  sure  many  disciples,  I  myself  among  them, 
need  to  remember  the  Master's  question,  "  Are 
there  not  twelve  hours  in  the  day  ?  "  Some  forget 
it  through  laziness ;  and  some  through  fear ;  and 
some  through  fussiness.  Some  disciples,  too  indo- 
lent and  self-indulgent,  act  as  if  every  day  had 
twenty  hours  instead  of  twelve.  They  are  never 
in  dead  earnest  about  their  Master's  work.  They 
take  things  very  easily.  They  are  almost  asleep ; 
at  least  they  are  only  half  awake.  They  never 
seem  to  feel  the  need  of  being  busy  in  the  work 
given  them  to  do.  "  God  works  slowly,"  they  say, 
and  in  that  way  they  excuse  their  indolence ! 
Other  disciples,  of  a  nervous  temperament,  are 
always  fuss7j  in  their  work  for  God.     They  seem  to 


COURAGEOUS  CALM  211 

think  there  are  only  six  hours  in  the  day,  not 
twelve.  They  are  all  on  fire,  and  seem  to  have 
discovered  the  secret  of  perpetual  motion.  They 
are  never  calm  enough  to  cool,  for  they  are  never 
at  rest.  They  do  not  think  enough  of  the  quiet 
mountain-tops  where  the  Master  found  refreshment 
to  His  soul,  after  labour  all  the  day.  They  seem 
never  to  realise  that  the  pauses  of  life  have  their 
high  uses,  of  an  invigorating  kind.  And  so  their 
fussy  energy  soon  expends  itself,  and  the  cold  fit 
of  depression  succeeds  the  fever-heat  of  excitement 
in  which  they  have  been  living  too  long.  A  cease- 
less rush  of  outward  activities  makes  it  impossible 
for  them  to  retreat  often  enough  to  the  quiet 
chamber  of  meditation  and  prayer,  and  so  their 
strength  soon  decays.  "It  is  the  pace  that  kills." 
But  other  disciples  still  may  forget  their  Master's 
question  about  the  twelve  hours  of  the  day,  through 
fear.  The  whisper  of  His  spirit  comes  to  them, 
urging  to  some  particular  thing  to  be  done  as  work 
for  God,  and  instantly  they  see  a  thousand  diffi- 
culties in  the  way — the  sneers  of  the  world,  the 
coldness  of  friends,  the  risk  of  losing  the  good 
opinion  of  some  whose  good  opinion  they  value 
more  than  the  smile  of  their  Lord,  the  probability 
that  they  will  suffer  in  their  earthly  interests, 
through  their  dependence,  in  business,  on  the  good- 
will of  an  ungodly  master.  These,  and  many  such 
things,  rise  up  like  lions  in  the  way.  They  have  an 
uncomfortable  vision  of  much  suffering  in  store  for 


212  COURAGEOUS  CALM 

them  :  "  Jews  ready  to  stone  them,"  if  they  go  on  ; 
and  fear  unnerves  them  for  the  task. 

The  picture  all  these  different  sorts  of  disciples 
need  to  keep  looking  at  is  the  picture  presented 
here — the  unresting^  unhasting,  unfearing  Christ. 
In  these  three  things  lay  the  deep  secret  of  His 
wonderful  life.  He  was  unresting  in  His  work 
because  He  felt  He  must  finish  the  work  the 
Father  had  given  Him  to  do.  He  was  unhasting 
in  the  work  because,  waiting  continually  upon  the 
Father's  will,  He  never  sought  to  do  more  than 
"  the  work  of  each  day,  in  its  day."  And  He  was 
unfearing  because  He  knew  His  life  was  in  the 
Father's  hands.  One  of  our  hymns  speaks  of 
"  courage  rising  with  danger.' '  To  Christ,  and  to 
any  Christ-following  soul,  there  is  never  any  danger 
at  all.  "  If  I  live,  Christ  is  with  me;  if  I  die,  I 
am  with  Him." 


XXXI 
A  SPECIALISING  FAITH 

"  Believest  thou  this  ?  "—John  xi.  26. 

My  Lord  and  Master  comes  very  closely  home 
to  me  with  His  questions.  He  will  not  let  me 
content  myself  with  generalities ;  He  goes  into 
minute  details.  He  is  not  satisfied  with  my  covi- 
'preheyision  of  the  truth  ;  He  asks,  ^^  Believest  thou 
this  ?  "  He  will  not  let  me  shelter  myself  from 
His  home-thrusts  by  adherence  to  the  Church's 
creed ;  He  wants  to  know  my  own  creed — 
"  Believest  thou  this  ?  "  and  He  will  not  be  content 
with  my  believing  mere  elevientary  truth.  He 
leads  me  up  to  the  highest  truth,  and  asks 
"Believest  thou  this  r' 

In  His  whole  conversation  with  Martha  of 
Bethany  the  Lord  was  leading  her — and  in  this 
story  of  it  He  is  leading  me — to  a  higher  concep- 
tion of  Himself.  She  had  already  a  high  concep- 
tion of  His  love,  for  she  felt  that  just  to  tell  Him 
of  her  need,  without  asking  anything,  would  bring 

213 


214  A  SPECIALISING  FAITH 

Him  to  her  side.  She  had  a  high  conception  of 
His  power,  for  she  knew  that  He,  if  only  there, 
could  easily  rebuke  that  sickness,  and  bring  back 
her  brother  to  health.  She  had  also  a  high 
conception  of  His  peculiar  intimacy  with  God, 
for  she  said  that  she  knew  God  would  deny  Him 
nothing  He  chose  to  ask.  But  she  needed  a  higher 
conception  of  Him  still,  as  having  the  Eternal 
Life  in  Himself  so  that  He  could  give  it  out 
wherever  He  pleased;  nay,  as  being  the  Eternal 
Life;  and  therefore  He  said  to  her,  "7  am  the 
Eesurrection  and  the  Life,  he  that  believeth  in 
Me,  though  he  were  dead^  yet  shall  he  live. 
Believest  thou  this  ?  " 

I  see,  then,  that  Martha's  sorrow  was  so  over- 
whelming, just  because  she  did  not  know  enough 
of  her  Master.  Had  she  but  known  Him  in  the 
fulness  of  His  glorious  power,  her  sorrow  would 
have  been  at  an  end  ;  and  so  I  see  that  the  reason 
I  so  often  remain  uncomforted  in  the  great  sorrows 
that  fall  on  me  is  this,  that  I  do  not  know  my 
Lord  as  I  ought  to  do.  I  believe  in  Him  a  little, 
but  I  do  not  believe  enough.  I  trust  Him  greatly, 
but  I  do  not  trust  Him  absolutely.  I  realise  His 
love,  but  I  very  dimly  realise  the  infinite  power 
that  is  behind  the  love ;  and  therefore  when  He 
wishes  to  bring  to  me  the  highest  of  His  conso- 
lations, He  utters  to  me  now  one  and  now  another 
of  His  largest  and  grandest  promises,  and  says, 
''Believest  thou  this?" 


A  SPECIALISING  FAITH  215 

There  are  great  regions  of  consolation  in  my 
Master's  words  which  I  have  hardly  explored  as 
yet,  and  great  treasures  waiting  for  me  in  that 
unvisited  land,  of  the  very  existence  of  which  I 
am  still  completely  ignorant.  His  saving  power  I 
know,  but  His  strengthening  power  I  do  not  know. 
The  vital  truths  of  His  gospel  I  know,  but  the 
exhilarating  and  uplifting  truths  I  take  hold  of 
very  feebly  at  the  best.  I  feed  upon  the  bread  of 
life,  but  the  luscious  fruits  in  "my  beloved's 
garden"  I  hardly  ever  taste.  So  I  am  weak 
where  I  ought  to  be  strong,  and  sorrowful  where 
I  might  be  full  of  joy. 

Martha's  two  mistakes  are  just  my  own  mistakes 
every  day.  First,  she  was  looking  far  into  the 
future;  and  Jesus  comforted  her  by  speaking  of 
the  present.  I,  too,  am  often  heavy-hearted 
because  I  am  looking  only  for  a  future  salvation, 
not  realising  it  as  a  thing  that  belongs  to  me  here 
and  now.  I  have  a  quiet  hope  of  being  welcomed 
at  the  last,  but  no  joyous  assurance  of  my  full 
''  acceptance  in  the  Beloved,"  even  now.  If  I 
were  only  safely  past  all  temptation,  and  happily 
done  with  my  own  unsteadfastness,  I  would  feel 
absolutely  secure ;  but  I  cannot  feel  any  security 
just  yet.  My  Lord  pities  me  for  this.  He  sees 
that  I  do  not  understand  Him  yet;  and  so  He 
says  to  me,  "  He  that  believeth  on  the  Son  hath 
everlasting  life,  and  shall  not  come  into  condemna- 
tion, but  is  passed  from  death  to  life.     Believest 


216  A  SPECIALISING  FAITH 

thou  this  ?  "  "  My  sheep  shall  never  perish,  none 
is  able  to  pluck  them  out  o£  My  hands.  Believest 
thou  this'}  "  My  doubts  on  this  point  surely  dis- 
honour my  Saviour.  If  I  have  returned  home  as  a 
repentant  prodigal,  and  have  been  received  by  a 
Father's  close  embrace,  why  should  I  talk  as  if  I 
were  not  sure  I  have  been  really  forgiven  ?  Why 
should  I  hang  my  head  in  my  Father's  presence 
instead  of  looking  up  into  His  face  through  my 
tears  of  shame  and  joy?  Why  should  I  go  away 
doubtfully,  only  wishing  it  were  true,  when  my 
Saviour  says  to  me,  "  Son,  be  of  good  cheer ;  thy 
sins  are  forgiven  thee  "  ?  Why  should  I  answer 
Him,  *'  I  know  that  they  shall  be  forgiven  me  in 
the  Eesurrection  at  the  last  day,"  when  He  is 
telling  me  that  "  the  Son  of  man  hath  power  on 
earth  to  forgive  sins,"  and  asking  me  once  again, 
"Believest  thou  thisV 

I  see  that  a  second  mistake  of  Martha's  was  that 
she  was  looking  too  far  afield  as  well  as  too  far 
ahead,  thinking  of  what  concerned  the  indis- 
criminate mass  of  men,  the  world's  millions  every- 
where, instead  of  looking  at  what  was  close  at 
hand  and  concerned  herself.  Looking  only  at  the 
general  resurrection  of  all  the  dead,  which  is  in 
itself  by  no  means  a  specially  consoling  truth,  she 
missed  the  very  meaning  of  her  Master's  words, 
''  Thy  brother  shall  rise  again." 

Perhaps  it  is  in  this  very  way  that  I,  too,  miss 
the  special  comfort  of  many  of  my  Lord's  words  to 


A  SPECIALISING  FAITH  217 

me.  I  read  His  great  promises  in  so  poor  and 
narrow  a  way  that  they  do  not  unfold  to  me  their 
full  consoling  power.  The  Christ  who  is  so 
wonderfully  near  to  me  I  remove  to  a  distance, 
and  so  allow  myself  only  a  few  drops  of  His 
consolation  now  and  then,  while  He  would 
willingly  give  me  the  comfort  in  a  stream  flowing 
at  my  very  feet.  I  believe  that  He  was  a  propi- 
tiation for  the  sins  of  the  worlds  but  do  I  make 
that  general  truth  a  specific  and  personal  one,  and 
believe  that,  therefore.  He  was  a  propitiation  for 
me  ?  To  say  that  it  is  my  privilege  to  possess 
complete  gospel-peace  is  not  to  say  enough.  It 
is  my  dictif  to  possess  it.  The  will  of  the  Lord  is 
that  "my  joy  should  be  full."  I  not  only  may, 
but,  more  than  that,  I  ought  to  be  "  filled  with  all 
joy  and  peace  in  believing."  I  dishonour  my 
Saviour  if  I  put  aside  His  hand  and  refuse  to  take 
the  blessings  He  offers  me,  because  I  think  them 
too  great  for  Him  to  give,  or  for  me  to  receive. 

There  must  be  thousands  of  disciples  in  all  the 
churches,  of  whom  it  can  only  be  said  that  they 
are  just  alive.  Their  pulse  is  feeble.  Their 
strength  is  small.  Their  songs  have  no  joyous 
ring.  There  is  none  of  the  brightness  of  God's 
fair  sunshine  in  their  souls.  That  poor  experience 
is  certainly  better  than  nothing;  just  as  a  sick 
man  is  better  than  one  dead.  But  when  the  great 
Christ  restores  a  man,  it  is  not  from  death  to  sicJc- 
linesSy  but  fro7Ji  death  to  all  the  fulness  of  strong 


218  A  SPECIALISING  FAITH 

and  happy  life.  I  would  like  oftener  to  hear  my 
Master  say  to  me,  "  Friend,  go  up  higher,"  higher 
in  faith,  higher  in  experience,  higher  in  joy,  and 
higher  in  praise.  Tears  for  sin  are  good ;  but 
praise  for  the  pardon  of  sin  is  better.  It  is  good 
to  fall  at  His  feet,  daring  no  more  than  to  touch 
His  garment's  hem ;  but  it  is  better  to  go  higher 
and  lean  upon  His  arm ;  and  better  still  to  sit 
down  with  Him  even  now  in  heavenly  places, 
without  any  misgiving  as  to  my  right,  through 
His  grace,  to  be  there.  It  is  good  to  take  the 
lowest  place  and  be  as  the  dogs  that  gather  the 
falling  crumbs  ;  but  better  far  to  sit  at  my  Father's 
table,  as  in  my  Father's  house,  and  eat  the 
children's  bread.  It  is  to  this  that  I  am  called. 
My  Master  tells  me  that  all  is  meant  for  me,  and 
asks  "  Believest  thou  tJiis  ?  " 

So,  too,  with  all  the  trials  and  worries  of  my 
daily  life.  His  way  of  comforting  me  under  these 
is  just  the  same,  bringing  a  wide  and  general  truth 
so  closely  home  to  my  heart  that  I  feel  it  to  have 
a  very  special  and  personal  application.  When  I 
say  that  I  believe  that  on  the  whole,  in  a  general 
sort  of  way,  "all  things  work  together"  for  my  good, 
He  asks,  "  But  do  you  believe  that  of  every  smallest 
item  in  the  great  sum  ?  "  Let  me  consider  this. 
Can  I  go  over  all  my  troubles,  the  smallest  and 
the  greatest  alike,  and  say  of  each,  "  this  is 
working  for  good  to  me  "  ?  Do  I  believe  that  that 
heavy  loss  I  had  a  few  years  ago,  that  accident  I 


A  SPECIALISING  FAITH  219 

met  with  last  year,  that  bereavement  I  suffered 
six  months  ago,  that  trial  I  had  last  week,  that" 
anxiety  that  troubles  me  to-day,  that  keen  vexation 
I  met  with  yesterday,  that  bitter  disappointment 
I  had  the  day  before,  has  really,  each  in  its  own 
way,  and  each  in  turn,  been  working  for  my  good  ? 
I  believe  that  the  love  of  God  arranges  and  over- 
shadows my  life  as  a  whole ;  but  how  about  that 
love  resting  equally  on  each  day  and  hour  and 
moment  of  that  one  life  ?  Am  I  believing  this  ? 
I  will  be  very  still  and  listen  as  my  God  says  to 
me,  "  I  will  never  leave  thee  nor  forsake  thee ; 
Believest  thou  this  ?  "  "  Commit  thy  way  unto  the 
Lord,  and  He  shall  bring  it  to  pass ;  Believest 
thou  this  ?  "  Help  me,  0  Master,  to  say  "  Amen. 
Lord,  I  believe,  help  Thou  mine  unbelief." 


XXXII 

TENDERNESS 

"  He  groaned  in  the  spirit  and  was  troubled,  and  said,  Where  have 
ye  laid  him  ?  " — John  xi.  33,  34. 

The  peculiar  interest  of  this  question  lies  in  the 
fact  that  in  it,  for  the  first  time,  Jesus  gave  the 
sorrowing  sisters  a  proof  that  He  was  really  feeling 
with  them  in  their  deep  grief.  Up  to  this  point 
He  had  been  speaking  down  to  them  from  His  own 
calm  height;  speaking  lovingly,  but  still  as  One 
above  them.  Now  He  puts  Himself  on  their  own 
level,  sharing  their  sorrows,  mingling  His  own 
tears  with  theirs. 

I  see  here  how  intensely  human  Jesus  was, 
although  divine.  He  spoke  to  them  with  the 
tears  of  sympathy  welHng  up  into  His  eyes — tears 
that,  the  next  moment,  fell  silently,  but  copiously, 
over  all  His  face ;  and  it  is  a  most  significant  fact 
that  this  Gospel  of  John,  which,  more  than  the 
other  three,  reveals  the  true  Deity  of  the  Lord,  is 


TENDERNESS  221 

that  one  which,  more  than  the  others,  reveals  His 
perfect  humanity  as  well. 

From  anything  He  yet  had  said  to  the  sorrowing 
ones,  it  could  not  have  been  inferred  that  He  had 
personally  felt  deeply  the  death  of  Lazarus.  He 
seemed  not  to  look  upon  their  sorrow  as  a  real 
sorrow  that  needed  sympathy;  and  though  this 
can  be  explained  by  His  knowledge  that  the  death 
was  soon  to  be  turned  into  glorious  life,  still  there 
is  little  trace  of  any  very  deep  feeling  with  the 
natural  grief  of  the  sisters,  who,  of  course,  knew 
nothing  of  that.  But  the  deep  feeling  had  been 
there  all  the  time,  and  it  was  Mary's  wild  out- 
burst of  sobs  and  tears  that  prompted  Him  at  last 
to  show  what  had  been  hidden  under  His  exterior 
calm.  These  tears  of  hers  brought  home  to  him, 
as  one  might  say,  with  new  vividness,  the  fearful- 
ness  of  the  curse  that  sin  had  brought  upon  the 
world,  and  that  was  making  such  havoc  in  it.  He 
had  known  that  all  along,  and  seen  it  too  in  the 
case  of  others.  But  this  was  the  first  time  that  it 
came  closely  home  to  His  personal  affections,  as 
witnessed  in  the  small  circle  of  His  best-loved 
friends ;  and  it  so  "  troubled  Him "  that  He 
"  shuddered  with  indignation "  at  the  great  foe 
who  had  been  the  cause  of  it  all.  He  saw  here 
the  work  of  sin  in  all  its  length  and  breadth,  and 
from  this  His  thoughts  would  go  out  to  all  the  sin- 
cursed  world.  He  would  see,  as  in  a  swift  vision, 
the  same  scene  repeated  daily,  hourly,  over  all  the 


222  TENDERNESS 

earth  ;  would  see,  in  one  flash,  all  earth's  desolated 
homes,  all  its  weeping  mourners,  all  its  gloomy 
graves,  and  all  its  falling  tears — tears,  most  of 
them,  which  no  resurrection  would  dry  up,  no 
comforter's  hand  would  wipe  away.  He  would 
see  that  even  Lazarus  would  need  to  die  again, 
and  the  same  tears  fall  over  him  once  more.  He 
would  see,  too,  that  even  this  great  miracle  of  love 
He  was  soon  to  work  would  only  prompt  His  foes  to 
deeper  sin,  in  plotting  His  destruction  afresh.  He 
would  see  that  some  of  the  very  bystanders  who 
were  to  witness  His  miracle  would  turn  against 
Him;  that  He  would  need  to  pay  with  His  own 
life  for  this  giving  back  of  life  to  the  dead.  What 
wonder  if,  having  this  swift  vision  of  the  fearful 
work  of  sin,  He  shuddered  at  it,  and  was  indig- 
nant at  it,  as  being  not  only  the  destroyer  of  holi- 
ness, but  the  destroyer  of  joy ;  and  then,  in  haste 
to  put  an  end  to  the  weeping  of  those  He  loved  so 
well,  said,  "Where  have  ye  laid  him?  Let  me 
end  your  sorrow  now  at  once." 

It  is  good  for  me  to  have  ''  such  a  High  Priest  " 
as  this,  who  is  "  touched  with  a  feeling  of  my 
grief,"  and  can  enter  into  my  sorrows  as  if  they 
were  His  own.  Strange,  perhaps,  that  He  should 
so  feel  in  the  presence  of  a  death  that,  in  ten 
minutes  more,  was  to  be  turned  into  happy  life  ! 
But  all  my  sorrows  are,  in  His  sight,  "  but  for  a 
moment,"  and  yet  He  weeps  along  with  me  when 
I  am  in  the  midst  of  them.     He  mingles  His  own 


TENDERNESS  223 

holy  tears  with  those  of  mine,  which,  next  moment, 
He  wipes  away.  It  is  good  for  me  to  see  that  my 
Lord  does  not  grudge  me  the  tears  I  shed  over  the 
grave  where  my  loved  one  lies.  It  is  forbidden  me 
to  murmur ;  but  it  is  not  forbidden  me  to  mourn. 
I  am  only  not  to  mourn  "  as  those  that  have  no 
hope."  My  tears  may  be  sanctifying  tears,  and  it 
helps  me  much  when  I  see  that  my  Lord  Himself 
was  not  ashamed  to  weep.  Divine  enough  to  dry 
the  tears  of  others,  He  was  yet  human  enough  to 
shed  tears  Himself. 

For  I  see  in  my  Master  more  than  simply  a 
human  Christ — I  see  an  emotional  Christ ;  and 
with  this  picture  of  Him  the  world  cannot  dis- 
pense. There  is  a  strange  fascination  for  some 
minds  in  that  superiority  to  all  emotion  which  has 
for  ages  been  canonized  in  the  Eomish  Church  as 
the  very  height  of  saintliness ;  that  crucifixion  of 
all  natural  feeling,  which  is  thought  to  be  essential 
to  the  soul's  dwelling  amid  heavenly  raptures  and 
ecstatic  devotions.  Her  wonderful  pictures  of 
ascetic  and  half-angelic  saints,  cut  off  completely 
from  all  the  feelings  of  common  men  and  women, 
and  living  in  a  higher  perfection  of  the  spiritual 
nature  than  can  be  reached  amid  the  ordinary  joys 
and  sorrows  of  life,  have  always  been  the  most 
powerful  attraction  for  sentimental  minds  to  the 
Church  of  Eome.  But  assuredly  the  spiritual  taste 
must  be  sadly  corrupted  if  it  is  imagined  that  any 
such  icy  separation  from  human  sympathies  is  a 


224  TENDERNESS 

nobler  style  of  living  than  was  shown  by  Him  who 
mingled  freely  in  the  homes  of  the  people,  entering 
into  their  joys,  sharing  their  griefs,  eating  at  their 
feasts,  taking  their  little  children  into  His  arms, 
weeping  at  their  graves.  When  will  even  Christians 
cease  from  thinking  themselves  wiser  than  their 
Master  was  ? 

But  I  learn  from  Him  yet  more.  His  emotional- 
ness  of  love  suggests  to  me  that  the  current  religion 
of  the  day  is  greatly  deficient  in  the  elements  of 
patJios  and  spiritual  tenderness.  It  concerns  itself 
with  the  maxims  of  Jesus  rather  than  His  tears. 
The  Christ  of  the  age  is  a  teaching  and  a  working 
Christ  rather  than  a  weeping  one. 

The  characteristics  of  discipleship  chiefly  insisted 
upon  are  strength  of  principle  and  activity  of 
zeal ;  but  spiritual  emotion  is  at  a  discount.  It 
is  called  weak  sentiment.  It  is  a  thing  most  men 
rather  despise.  The  earlier  Church  had  far  more 
of  this  tenderness  than  we,  and  it  worshipped 
tenderness  more.  The  old  galleries  are  full  of 
pictures  of  Christ,  but  they  show  Him  chiefly  as 
crowned  with  thorns,  as  weeping  in  the  garden,  as 
laid  in  the  tomb.  Our  own  forefathers  had  more 
of  it  too.  The  religious  life  of  even  fifty  years  ago 
was  more  suffused  with  tenderness  than  it  is  to- 
day. There  was  emotion  in  the  preaching  that 
made  weeping  in  the  pew.  Communion  tables 
were  often  wet  with  tears.  It  would  certainly 
not  be  good  to  get  back  into  the  old  gloom  so  often 


TENDERNESS  225 

associated  with  the  thought  of  the  suffering  Christ ; 
but  it  will  be  an  unhappy  day  for  the  Church  when 
the  weeping,  agonising,  dying  Christ  shall  cease  to 
be  impressive,  and  nothing  be  left  us  but  Christ  as 
a  divine  philosopher.  For  with  the  loss  of  spiritual 
tenderness  there  comes  a  loss  of  sensitiveness  and 
delicacy  in  spiritual  perception.  We  tend  to  be- 
come, not  hardened  exactly,  but  stiffened  in  our 
sympathies,  and  thus  the  heautifying  graces  of 
the  Christian  life  are  neglected  for  those  that  are 
merely  strong.  A  very  lethargic  age  needs  most 
the  stimulus  of  Christ's  consuming  zeal ;  but  a 
busy,  practical  age  like  ours  needs  much  the 
corrective  of  Christ's  silent  tears.  There  are 
thousands  of  Christian  men  who  pride  them- 
selves upon  their  freedom  from  emotion  ;  but  they 
would  be  a  thousand  times  better  Christians  if 
they  had  a  good  deal  more  of  it.  For  we  are 
uplifted  by  our  emotions  even  more  than  by  the 
intellect.  Some  of  the  most  sanctifying  expe- 
riences lie  in  the  region  of  the  feelings ;  but  hard 
prosaic  work  too  often  clips  the  wings,  and  quite 
unfits  us  for  seeing  Abraham's  mystical  city  while 
we  journey,  or  Jacob's  angels  when  we  sleep. 

It  is  a  most  precious  glimpse  into  the  heart  of 
my  Lord  that  is  given  me  in  the  words  that  tell 
how,  immediately  after  asking  "Where  have  ye 
laid  him?"  ^^  Jesus  ^vejjt.''  The  translators  did 
well  to  make  a  separate  verse  of  that,  and  if  that 
short  verse  had  not  been  in  the  Gospel  story  how 

16 


226  TENDERNESS 

large  a  part  of  the  consolation  of  my  Master's 
humanity  would  have  been  lost !  Let  me  thank 
God  for  my  Eedeemer's  tears.  The  "  Man  of 
sorrows  "  is  the  man  for  sorrowers.  The  weeping 
Saviour  makes  me  glad.  My  tears  are  often  tele- 
scopes to  let  me  look  more  clearly  into  the  far-off 
land,  where  tears  shall  never  come.  It  comforts 
me  to  see  that  He  thinks  tenderly  even  of  the  rest- 
ing-place of  my  dead.  If  He  asks  me,  "Where 
have  you  laid  your  loved  one  ?  "  I  will  answer, 
*'  Come  and  see,"  for  I  will  not  go  alone,  even  to 
weep  there.  I  will  take  my  Lord  along  with  me, 
and  I  will  listen  to  Him  as  there  He  tells  me  of 
the  glorious  life  that  is  only  a  little  way  beyond. 
If  my  Lord  goes  with  me  to  the  grave  I  can  look 
at  it  calmly,  even  through  still  falling  tears,  as  His 
holy  ground,  where  He  is  keeping  one  of  His  loved 
ones  safe  till  the  breaking  of  the  day. 


XXXIII 
THEOUGH    FAITH  TO  SIGHT 

"  Said  I  not  unto  thee,  that,  if  thou  wouldest  believe,  thou  shouldest 
see  the  glory  of  God." — John  xi.  40. 

This  was  the  Lord's  tender  way  of  comforting  a 
very  sad-hearted  disciple,  from  whom,  after  weary 
waiting  and  disappointment,  hope  seemed  to  have 
fled  for  ever.  Four  days  before,  He  had  said  "  This 
sickness  is  not  unto  death,  but  for  the  glory  of  God, 
that  the  Son  of  God  might  be  glorified  thereby"  ; 
and  these  words,  spoken  first  beyond  Jordan,  He 
had  sent  as  a  message  of  hope,  while  He  Himself 
still  lingered  far  away.  No  doubt,  on  coming  to 
Bethany,  He  had  repeated  them  Himself  to  her. 
But  the  dead  body,  with  corruption  already  begun, 
seemed  to  give  them  the  lie,  and  as  she  looked  at 
the  grave,  her  faith  staggered  under  the  blow. 
Jesus  did  not  argue  with  her ;  He  just  calmly  put 
all  her  objections  aside.  She  was  looking  at  the 
difficulties   in  the   way.     He  never  so  much    as 

227 


228  THROUGH  FAITH  TO  SIGHT 

alluded  to  difficulties.  He  simply  took  her  in 
heliind  the  difficulties,  and  bade  her  think  of  His 
Almighty  Power,  and  trust  Him  to  the  last.  "  Said 
I  not  unto  thee  ?  Well,  I  say  the  same  thing  still." 
I  read  these  words  with  deepest  joy,  not  because 
of  what  they  tell  me  about  Martha,  but  because  of 
what  they  tell  me  of  her  Master  and  mine.  I 
see  the  absolute  trustwortliiness  of  my  Christ. 
I  see  His  claim  to  be  trusted ;  but  I  see  more.  I 
see  His  right  to  be  trusted  to  the  uttermost ;  and  I 
see  that  He  is  infinitely  worthy  of  that  trust.  Had 
Martha  only  hiown  her  Lord  sufficiently,  no  doubt 
would  have  troubled  her  poor  heart  for  a  moment. 
Before  I  really  know  Christ,  it  is  difficult  for  me 
to  trust  Him  utterly;  but,  once  known,  it  is 
impossible  not  to  trust  Him.  This  is  a  secret  that 
the  great  Apostle  Paul  had  well  learned,  when  he 
said  "  I  know  whom  I  have  believed."  He  did  not 
say  "I  knoMV  that  I  have  trusted  Him'';  he  said 
"  I  know  Him  on  whom  my  trust  reposes ;  I  know 
His  character  to  be  the  infinitely  trustworthy 
one  "  ;  and  this  was  a  thing  that  could  never  need 
reconsideration.  It  was  a  settled  matter.  "  I  know 
whom  I  have  believed  "  ;  not,  "I  know  one  whom  I 
may  trust,  as  soon  as  necessity  arises";  nor,  ''I 
know  one  whom  I  will  trust  when  things  come  to 
the  worst  "  ;  nor,  "  I  know  one  whom  I  inust  trust 
as  my  last  resource,  when  all  others  fail " ;  but, 
"  I  know  Him  to  whom  I  have  already  surrendered 
my  trust,  whom  I  have  trusted  once  for  all,  and  who 


THROUGH  FAITH  TO  SIGHT  229 

will  keep  me  safe  for  ever.  I  trust  Him  because  I 
hioio  Him.  I  hnow  Him  to  be  one  who  will  never 
go  back  upon  His  word."  Was  it  not  just  to  this 
that  Jesus  sought  to  bring  the  weeping  Martha  ? 
"  Said  I  not  unto  thee  ?  What  I  have  once  said,  I 
will  never  unsay."  It  seems  to  me  that,  for  all  the 
high  purposes  of  faith,  it  is  easier  for  me  to  know 
Christ  than  to  know  any  one  else,  or  even  to  know 
myself,  and  that  for  this  simple  reason,  that 
neither  I  nor  other  men  are  ever  two  days  alike,  but 
He  changes  not.  When  I  see  Christ  at  all  I  see 
what  He  will  always  be.  Looking  at  myself  and 
men  is  like  looking  at  the  ever-changeful  sea. 
Looking  at  Christ  is  like  looking  at  a  great 
mountain-peak,  the  same  at  all  seasons,  the  same 
by  night  as  by  day.  Mists  may  cover  it  for  a  time, 
but  when  they  lift,  it  stands  out  absolutely  as  it 
was  before.  Knowing  Him  thus,  1 7nust  trust  Him 
evermore. 

"  Said  I  not  unto  thee  ?  "  was  a  rebuke  as  well 
as  an  encouragement.  It  was  like  what  He  said 
to  PhiHp,  "  Have  I  been  so  long  time  with  you, 
and  yet  hast  thou  not  known  Me,  Philip  ?  "  What 
my  Master  wants  from  me  above  all  things  else  is 
a  simple  faith  in  what  He  has  already  said  to  me. 
There  is  nothing  He  takes  such  loving  pains  to 
teach  me,  but  nothing  I  am  so  slow  to  learn,  as  this 
absolute  and  unquestioning  faith  in  Himself :  and 
to  all  my  difficulties,  He  has  but  one  reply  ^^ Believe, 
and  thou  shalt  see."    If  He  delays  to  fulfil  some  of 


230  THROUGH  FAITH  TO  SIGHT 

His  words,  and  I  begin  to  think  He  cannot  possibly 
fulfil  them  now,  I  will  remember  that  the  blessing 
is  delayed,  only  that  it  may  be  a  more  enriching 
blessing  when  it  comes.  I  think  often  of  my 
Lord's  anticipating  love,  the  love  that  foresees 
my  need,  and  provides  beforehand  for  it ;  but  I 
will  think,  also,  of  His  tarrying  love,  the  love  that 
keeps  me  long  in  the  darkness,  and  seems  to 
disregard  my  cry.  I  know  that  if  He  lays  some 
heavy  trial  on  me,  it  is  because  He  loves  me ; 
for  the  more  precious  the  jewel,  the  more  cutting 
it  gets  from  the  lapidary's  hands.  I  will  believe 
that  if  He  continues  the  trial,  it  is  still  because 
He  loves  me ;  that  if  He  seems  only  to  heap  fresh 
fuel  upon  an  already  scorching  fire,  it  is  because  He 
loves  me ;  that  if,  when  I  call  Him  to  my  Bethany, 
He  lingers  among  the  hills  of  Gilead,  it  is  because 
He  loves  me ;  and  I  will  believe  that  at  last  He 
will  explain  it  all,  "it  was  for  the  glory  of  God, 
that  the  Son  of  God  might  be  glorified  thereby." 
At  the  right  moment  for  me,  as  well  as  for  Him, 
He  will  reveal  that  glory,  and  turn  my  sorrow 
into  joy;  for — 

♦'His  wisdom  is  sublime, 
His  heart  is  ever  kind  ; 
God  never  is  before  His  time, 
And  never  is  behind." 

Martha  soon  saw  the  glory  of  God  of  which 
her  Master  spoke.  She  saw  it  in  the  Master 
Himself,  who   proved   Himself  to  be   the    Lord 


THROUGH  FAITH  TO  SIGHT  231 

of  Life ;  and  she  saw  it  also  in  the  glorious 
results  that  followed  her  brother's  restoration 
from  the  grave :  "  Many  who  came  and  saw 
the  things  which  Jesus  did,  believed  on  Him  " ; 
"  by  reason  of  Lazarus,  many  of  the  people  believed 
on  Jesus."  When  I  am  mourning  over  a  loved 
one's  tomb,  not  seeing  what  possible  good  can 
come  out  of  my  heart-breaking  bereavement,  let 
me  believe  that  God  may  have  mercy  to  others 
in  view,  when  He  sends  this  sorrow  upon  me ; 
that  this  may  be  the  beginning  of  an  awakening 
to  true  and  blessed  life  in  some  whom  all  my 
appeals  have  hitherto  failed  to  touch.  Many  a 
death-bed  has  been  the  birthplace  of  weeping  souls, 
and  over  tears  below,  the  angels  of  heaven  have 
rejoiced,  because  the  lost  have  been  found. 

Let  me  learn,  therefore,  from  my  Master's 
question,  "  Said  I  not  unto  thee  that  if  thou 
wouldest  believe  thou  shouldest  see  ?  "  and  from  His 
echo  of  them  in  His  latest  benediction,  "  Blessed 
are  they  which  have  not  seen,  and  yet  have 
believed,"  that  my  heart  may  be  most  at  rest 
when  I  simply  believe  what  my  Master  says,  and 
because  He  says  it.  My  difficulties,  whether 
speculative  or  practical,  will  not  be  solved  by 
this,  they  will  simply  ^;as5  out  of  vieio.  I  will 
get  in  behind  them,  and  then  find  that  they  need 
never  have  disturbed  me.  They  will  be  like  the 
towering  battlements  of  a  city  where  I  fain  would 
find  my  home.    At  first,  I  think  they  can  never 


232  THROUGH  FAITH  TO  SIGHT 

be  passed  unless  I  assault  them  by  force,  and  all 
my  efforts  to  do  that  fail.  But  at  length  I 
discover  that  no  assault  is  required,  for  the  city 
gate  opens  to  a  gentle  knock ;  and  when  once 
within,  I  can  look  upon  the  great  walls  from  the 
other  side,  and  see  that  the  fortifications  which  so 
alarmed  me  are  now  my  defence. 

Let  me  learn,  also,  to  deal  with  my  own  dis= 
couragements  as  Jesus  dealt  with  Martha's,  and 
put  the  things  which  I  believe  over  against  the 
things  I  see,  and  so  find  rest.  If  any  simple- 
minded  Christian  were  asked  the  secret  of 
his  peace,  he  would  say,  ''I  just  believe  what  my 
God  tells  me,  and  I  am  at  rest.  What  I  see  or  feel 
does  not  disquiet  me,  because  I  set  over  against  it, 
what,  on  His  authority,  I  believe.  I  see  enough  of 
sin  in  me  every  day  to  make  me  cry,  'chief  of 
sinners ' ;  but  I  believe  so  fully  in  the  forgiveness 
of  sins,  that  I  know  '  to  me  there  is  no  condemna- 
tion.' I  see,  in  my  outward  lot,  a  thousand  things 
that  trouble  me  ;  but  I  believe,  notwithstanding,  that 
'  all  things  work  together  '  for  my  good.  I  see  sin 
covering  the  earth,  and  Satan  appearing  to  triumph 
everywhere  ;  but  I  believe  his  destruction  is  as  sure 
to  come,  as  it  is  that  Jehovah  reigns.  I  see  the 
sick  bed,  and  the  coffin,  and  the  grave  of  some 
dearly  loved  one  whose  going  from  me  has  left  me 
desolate ;  but  though  I  see  death,  I  believe  in  Life  ; 
though  I  see  the  tomb,  I  believe  in  resurrection 
from  the  tomb  ;  though  I  see  and  feel  the  sundering 


THROUGH  FAITH  TO  SIGHT  233 

of  sweet  earthly  bonds,  I  believe  in  the  cementing 
of  still  sweeter  heavenly  ones.  I  do  not  see  the 
blessedness  of  heaven,  the  white  robes,  the  palms, 
the  harps  of  gold ;  and  yet  I  am  not  disheartened 
because  I  cannot  see  them,  for  I  believe  so  surely 
that  God  has  promised  them,  that  to  me  they  are 
as  the  most  real  of  all  real  things.  I  can  praise 
Him  for  all  that  He  is  going  to  do,  as  truly  as  for 
all  He  has  already  done,  and  say  '  Glory  to  Thee 
for  all  the  grace  I  have  not  tasted  yet.'  And  if, 
when  first  in  heaven,  I  should  for  a  moment  or 
two  be  utterly  amazed  that  such  a  sinner  as  I 
should  be  a  '  partaker  of  His  glory,'  I  think  my 
tender  Lord  will  just  repeat  to  me  His  old  question, 
even  there:  ^ Said  I  not  unto  thee,  that,  if  thou 
wouldest  believe  thou  shouldest  see  the  glory  of 
God  ?  " 


XXXIV 
SUBLIME  DEVOTION  VINDICATED 

"  Why  trouble  ye  the  woman  ?  for  she  hath  wrought  a  good  work 
upon  me." — Matthew  xxvi.  10. 

Maey's  anointing  of  Jesus  in  Simon's  house  has 
been  beautifully  called  "  a  lyric  prelude  to  the 
tragedy  of  Calvary,"  for  that  tragedy  was  very 
near.  In  a  few  hours  more  her  Lord  would  be  in 
the  olive-press  of  Gethsemane,  bruised  under  the 
heavy  millstones,  till  "His  sweat  was  as  drops  of 
blood  falling  to  the  ground"  ;  and  in  a  few  hours 
after  that.  He  would  be  hanging  on  the  Cross,  the 
Sacrifice  for  the  sin  of  the  world.  True  to  her 
character  always,  Mary  was  sitting  at  her  Master's 
feet,  drinking  in  His  words,  till  the  deep  love  of 
her  heart  quite  overflowed,  and  by  the  symbolic 
outpouring  of  her  fragrant  oil  she  showed  how 
gladly  she  would  give  her  very  best  to  Him  who 
had  given  so  much  to  her,  who  had  been  to  her 
so  great  a  Saviour,  so  great  a  Teacher,  so  great  a 

231 


SUBLIME  DEVOTION  VINDICATED       235 

Comforter,  so  great  a  Friend.  In  this  beautiful 
story,  and  in  the  question  of  the  Master,  I  see 
three  things  :  firstly,  love  most  touchingly  sym- 
bolised ;  secondly,  love  misrepresented  and  grudged 
by  an  unloving  heart ;  and,  thirdly,  love  nobly 
vindicated  and  immortalised  by  the  Master  Him- 
self. 

Perhaps  the  most  prominent  feature  in  this 
disciple  was  her  unlimited  power  of  loving.  All 
disciples  must  be  supposed  to  love  their  Lord,  but 
all  do  not  love  Him  equally,  either  in  the  same 
ivay  or  to  the  same  extent.  Few  love  as  she  did, 
and  so  to  the  heart  of  Jesus  she  stood  above  them 
all.  She  was  His  ideal  disciijle^  if  one  might  call 
her  so — the  disciple  whose  love  more  nearly  than 
any  other's  corresponded  to  what  a  disciple's  love 
should  be — a  love  in  which  there  was  no  mingling 
of  unworthy  elements,  as  there  was  so  often  in  the 
love  even  of  a  Peter  and  a  John. 

And  yet,  poor  soul,  till  Jesus  vindicated  her 
she  had  been  half  suspecting  that  she  had  been 
indiscreet !  Every  one  was  crying  out  against 
her,  and,  hearing  the  clamour,  she  feared  she 
had  made  some  mistake.  For  Jesus  said,  "  Why 
trouble  ye  the  woman  ?  You  are  not  only  con- 
demning this  loving  heart,  you  are  causing  it 
pain."  He  knew  well  how  love  of  that  deep  type 
is  a  sensitive  thing,  and  though  not  killed  by  want 
of  sympathy,  is  wounded  and  chilled. 

"  To  what  purpose  is  this  waste  ?  "  they  cried. 


236       SUBLIME  DEVOTION  VINDICATED 

That  is  always  the  tone  of  hard,  prosaic  men. 
Men  of  the  Judas  type  cannot  see  anything  noble 
in  actions  that  are  prompted  only  by  love.  There 
is  a  sort  of  superior  disdain  in  the  way  they  speak 
of  such  things.  "Yes,  very  romantic,  no  doubt, 
but  very  sentimental  and  very  useless  too.  Eeally, 
these  people  ought  to  calculate  more  closely  what 
their  schemes  of  philanthropy  will  cost.  They  are 
schemes  from  which  there  will  be  no  return.  If 
they  choose  to  throw  away  their  money  on  them 
that  is  their  own  affair,  but  the  whole  thing  is  a 
dead  loss." 

But  the  love  the  great  Lord  and  Master  most 
delights  to  see  is  a  love  that  does  not  calculate  by 
earthly  profit  and  loss  at  all,  a  love  that  simply 
gushes  out  of  the  grace-filled  heart,  spontaneous 
and  free.  Great  love  never  calculates  the  expense 
of  showing  it.  If  I  ever  find  myself  summing  up 
the  exact  cost  to  myself  of  some  love-token  I  am 
giving  to  a  dear  friend,  I  may  be  sure  that  my  love, 
though  genuine  enough,  is  not  very  deep.  An 
absorbing  love  scorns  cold  arithmetic. 

Love,  of  Mary's  warm,  impulsive  type,  does 
sometimes  make  mistakes,  and  yet,  practically, 
it  accomplishes  far  more  than  that  cautious 
wisdom  which  is  also  very  cold.  The  men  and 
women  who  have  done  most  for  the  honour  of 
their  Lord  and  the  good  of  the  world  have  not 
been  of  the  cold,  calculating  type,  but  had  their 
hearts  aglow  with  a  great  pity  and  a  great  com- 


SUBLIME  DEVOTION  VINDICATED       237 

passion;  and  that  love  set  them  on  doing  what 
none  else  ever  thought  of  doing  or  knew  how  to 
do.  A  loving  heart  is  more  original  than  the 
cleverest  brains.  There  is  a  sort  of  genius  in 
love  for  discovering  original  ways  of  doing  good. 
Mary's  act  was  exceedingly  original — far  too 
original  and  unique  for  the  colder  disciples  at  her 
side.  The  world  rings  with  praise  for  "original 
thinkers.''  Would  that  there  were  the  same  praise 
for  original  worJcers  and  original  giver's !  If  any 
one  wants  to  be  "  original,"  let  him  copy  perfectly 
the  example  of  his  Master.  That  will  soon  make 
him  the  most  unique  Christian  in  all  the  world. 
It  seems  worthy  of  note  that  Mary  did  not  con- 
sult with  any  of  the  other  disciples  before  taking 
this  way  of  showing  her  love.  If  she  had,  they 
would  all  have  dissuaded  her  from  it,  and  with 
great  show  of  wisdom  would  have  proved  to  her 
how  useless  it  was.  She  consulted  only  her  own 
loving  heart,  and  yet  proved  that  she  was  wiser 
than  them  all. 

The  Master's  vindication  of  her  act  was  complete, 
and  it  was  also  beautiful.  They  said  it  was  mean- 
ingless and  a  waste.  He  showed  them  in  a 
moment  that  it  was  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  : 
*'  She  has  wrought  a  good  work  on  Me ;  she  is 
anointing  Me  beforehand  for  My  burial."  He  saw 
deep  into  Mary's  heart,  saw  that  what  He  had  so 
often  said  about  His  speedy  death  had  sunk  into 
7ier  heart  more  than  into  any  of  theirs,  that  she 


238       SUBLIME  DEVOTION  VINDICATED 

had  prepared  a  tribute  of  affection  for  the  day  in 
which  He  would  be  lying  dead,  and  that  then  the 
thought  had  come  to  her,  "If  His  death  is  to  be 
a  death  of  violence  and  open  shame,  it  may  be 
impossible  for  me  to  do  this  then,  but  why  should 
I  reserve  my  offering  of  love  for  the  coldness  of 
death  ?  I  will  anoint  Him  now  ;  better  that  He 
should  have  my  token  of  affection  while  living 
than  only  after  He  is  gone."  She  thought  that 
He  at  least  would  understand  all  this ;  and  here 
He  showed  how  completely  He  did — showed  that 
He  had  been  reading  her  loving  thoughts,  and  had 
been  gladdened  by  what  He  saw. 

*'  Waste  !  "  said  the  Master  ;  ''  nay,  this  will  be 
the  seed  of  a  harvest  world-wide,  the  germ  of 
charities  innumerable  to  the  end  of  time,  of  offer- 
ings to  Me,  in  the  persons  of  My  poor  brethren, 
greater  far."  Has  not  that  alabaster  box  drawn 
forth  the  offerings  of  millions  from  Pentecost  till 
now  ?  Has  not  the  sweet  odour  of  that  ointment 
perfumed  not  only  the  small  chamber  at  Bethany, 
but  the  whole  great  temple  of  His  Church  in  every 
land  ?  Let  me  think  of  the  ever-unfolding  good 
that  may  result  from  even  one  devoted  act,  still 
more  from  one  devoted  life.  Without  aiming  at 
fame,  or  thinking  of  it  in  the  least,  it  may  surely 
be  a  stimulating  thought  that  my  good  may  live 
on  after  me ;  that  my  holy  influence  in  the  world 
maybe  a  seed  that  "bears  fruit  after  its  kind"; 
and  that  the  world  may  be  the   purer  and  the 


SUBLIME  DEVOTION  VINDICATED       239 

sweeter  for  having  had  me  in  it,  though  only  for 
a  few  short  years. 

The  carping  objectors  to  Mary's  gift  stand  now, 
even  in  the  world's  eyes,  just  where,  to  the  Master's 
eye,  they  were  standing  then — on  a  far  lower  level 
than  the  humble  woman  whose  only  question  was, 
"  How  best  can  I  show  my  love  ?  "  It  is  surely  a 
most  significant  fact  that  when  Judas  spoke  of 
that  act  he  called  it  *'  perdition  "  ;  "  this  waste  of 
the  ointment"  is  (literally  rendered)  " this  ^;e7TZi- 
tion  of  the  ointment " — not  only  waste,  but  utter 
loss  ;  and  that  word  of  his  has  been  made  to  cling 
for  ever  to  himself !  To  latest  ages  he  will  be 
known  as  "  the  Son  of  Perdition^' :  his  whole  life 
a  waste  and  an  utter  loss  !  So  true  is  it  that  "  by 
thy  words  thou  shalt  be  justified,  and  by  thy  words 
thou  shalt  be  condemned." 

Let  me  listen  thankfully  to  my  loving  Master  as 
He  defends  from  calumny  the  poor  disciple  whose 
heart  He  knows.  Let  me  also  serve  Him  with  my 
best,  and  serve  Him  in  my  own  way,  whether  other 
disciples  condemn  me  or  not.  But  let  me,  as  I  sit 
and  listen  to  His  comforting  voice,  bethink  me 
whether  I  am  doing  for  Him  what  might  call  for  a 
like  approval.  Can  I  take  gladly  all  He  gives  to 
me,  and  then,  when  the  next  appeal  to  help  Him 
comes,  grudge  Him  the  smallest  token  of  my 
thankfulness  ?  As  I  hear  Him  say,  "  She  hath 
done  what  she  could,"  let  me  honestly  ask,  Am 
I  also  doing  all  I  can  ?     Am  I  saying  to  myself, 


240       SUBLIME  DEVOTION  VINDICATED 

"  If  my  Lord  and  Saviour  were  only  here,  I  would 
lavish  on  Him  all  that  can  show  how  truly  I  am 
His  "  ?  Then  let  me  listen  still  as  He  meets  that 
profession  of  mine,  "The  poor  ye  have  always  with 
you,  and  whensoever  ye  will,  ye  can  do  them  good ; 
and  inasmuch  as  ye  do  it  to  one  of  the  least  of 
these  My  brethren,  ye  do  it  imto  Me.'' 


XXXV 

THE    SEEVANT-MASTER 

"  Whether  is  greater,  he  that  sitteth  at  meat,  or  he  that  serveth  ? 
is  not  he  that  sitteth  at  meat  ?  but  I  am  among  you  as  He  that 
serveth." — Lukb  xxii.  27. 

When  I  look  into  that  upper  room  where  Jesus  and 
His  disciples  were  met,  two  wonders  stand  out  to 
view ;  the  shameful  strife  among  them  for  the 
highest  place,  and  the  deep  humility  of  the  Master 
that  made  them  all  ashamed.  Saddened  exceed- 
ingly He  must  have  been  to  see  that  they  had 
even  yet  so  very  imperfectly  learned  His  spirit; 
but  there  is  no  angry  expostulation  on  His  lips,  no 
flash  of  holy  indignation  in  His  eye.  He  simply 
says,  "Look  at  Me;  am  I  striving  for  any  pre- 
eminence ?  Am  I  seeking  the  highest  place  ?  I 
might  rightly  do  it,  but  am  I  doing  so  ?  I  am 
among  you  as  He  that  serveth  you  all." 

How  can  I  ever  understand  this  wonderful 
humility  ?  The  great  Christ,  whom  John  after- 
wards in  vision  saw  ''holding  the  seven  stars  in 

17  241 


242  THE  SERVANT-MASTER 

His  right  hand,"  stoops  to  use  these  hands  in 
washing  a  sinner's  feet !  Knowing  that  the 
Father  h^idjyut  all  tilings  into  His  hands,  He  took 
a  towel  and  girded  Himself  to  do  the  lowest  and 
the  lowliest  service  to  these  pride-filled  men ! 
And  He  is  just  as  willing  to  do  the  same  for 
me  to-day.  I  call  Him  Master  a7icl  Lord, 
and  I  say  well,  for  so  He  is.  But  is  He  my 
servant  also  ?  Yes,  even  so.  But  for  this,  I  had 
never  been  saved;  but  for  this,  I  could  never  be 
kept;  but  for  this,  I  could  neither  be  fitted  nor 
admitted  to  sit  down  with  Him  at  last. 

"  Among  you  as  He  that  serveth."  That  single 
expression  sums  up  the  whole  work  and  the  whole 
character  of  this  great  Lord  of  my  soul.  It  tells 
me  of  His  servant-faithfulness,  and  it  tells  me  of 
His  servant-lowliness  as  well.  "  Making  Himself 
of  no  reputation^' !  Could  there  be  anything 
lowlier  than  that  ?  The  Lord  of  Heaven  putting 
Himself  on  the  low  level  of  His  lost  creatures,  to 
redeem  them,  carrying  their  burdens  for  them, 
washing  their  feet,  taking  on  Himself  their  sick- 
nesses, bearing  their  sins  ;  and  then,  after  speaking 
nothing  but  truth  and  love,  and  hearing  Himself 
called  "a  blasphemer"  for  speaking  it,  after  doing 
nothing  but  good,  and  hearing  Himself  called  "  a 
devil"  for  doing  it,  willing  to  die  at  their  cruel 
hands  as  the  vilest  of  sinners  dies,  willing  to  be 
hissed  out  of  the  world  by  the  very  men  He  came 
to   save — there    never    was    humility    like   that ! 


THE   SERVANT-MASTER  243 

That  was  a  depth  of  self-humiliation  to  which 
only  Divine  Love  could  stoop ;  but  that  aged 
Christian  must  have  learned  very  fully  what 
Divine  Love  is,  when  to  the  question,  Do  you 
not  think  it  wonderful  that  the  Lord  of  glory 
should  have  stooped  so  low  for  you?  she  replied, 
*'  No,  it  was  not  wonderful  for  Him  to  do  it,  for  it 
ivas  just  like  Hivi.'^ 

When  I  think  of  Jesus  as  the  Serving  One, 
I  must  begin  by  thinking  of  Him  as  a  true 
and  faithful  servant  to  God,  and  only  through 
that,  being  a  loving  servant  of  men.  This  servant- 
hood  to  the  Father  He  was  always  speaking  about : 
"  I  must  work  the  work  of  Him  that  sent  Me'' ; 
"  As  my  Father  gave  Me  commandment,  so  I  do  "  ; 
"  I  am  come  not  to  do  My  own  will,  but  the  will  of 
Him  that  sent  Me";  "I  have  finished  the  worJc 
Thou  gavest  Me  to  do.''  He  who  ''sprang  out 
of  Judah "  seemed  on  the  Cross  itself  to  echo 
the  words  of  Judah  regarding  Benjamin,  '^  Let 
me  abide  a  bond-servant  to  my  lord,  and  let 
Benjamin  go  free  "  ;  for  that  was  really  the  place 
He  took,  the  humiliation  He  was  willing  to 
accept,  "  made  under  the  law  to  redeem  them 
that  were  under  the  law."  Like  Jacob,  who 
gained  his  bride  by  serving  for  her.  He  took 
the  servant's  place,  did  faithfully  the  servant's 
work,  and  then  claimed  His  wages — the  bride  He 
had  been  serving  for. 

And  it  was  out  of  this  servant-hood  to  God  that 


244  THE  SERVANT-MASTER 

there  came  His  servant-hood  to  men.     A  friend  of 
sinners  ?    Yes.     A  Saviour  of  sinners  ?     Yes ;  but 
more  than  that ;    a   servant  of  sinners  too  !     He 
gathered  romid  Him  just  the  men  that  needed  to 
be  served,  and  He  spent  His  life  in  serving  them. 
When  in  the  synagogue  of  Nazareth  He  opened 
the  book  of  Isaiah,  and  read  His  commission,  "  the 
spirit  of  the  Lord  is  upon  me,  for  He  hath  se7it  me 
to  bind  up  the  broken-hearted,  to  preach  dehverance 
to  the   captives,   and  recovering  of   sight  to  the 
bhnd,  to  set  at  liberty  them  that  are  bruised,"  He 
was  rejoicing  in  the  work  of  being  a  servant  of 
sinners;  and  what  a  consecration  of  the  Holy  One 
for  His  merciful  ''  ministry  "  was  this  !  gathering 
together  the  children  of  sorrow,  and  poverty,  and 
sickness,  and   sin,  and   fear,   men   with   withered 
hearts  and  wasted  lives  and  despairing  souls,  and 
calling   all   of  them   to  His   ministry  of  healing, 
as  to  a  Bethesda  whose  angel  never  was  absent, 
whose  waters  never  were  still.     As  I  read  the  story 
of  His  life,   I   see  that   He  never  for  a  moment 
thought  either  of  His  own  dignity  or  of  His  own 
ease,  if  there  was  a  single  help-needing  one  beside 
Him  to  be  served  in  any  way.     Hungry  Himself 
He  fed  the  poor.     A  man  of  sorrows  Himself  He 
lifted  the  burdens  of  the  sad.     Weary  Himself  He 
went  on  serving  the  sick  till  far  on  into  the  night. 
I   see   Him   one  day,  serving   a  guilty  sinner   at 
Jacob's  well,  drawing  the  living  water  for  her  out 
of   His  own   deep   well ;    another   day,  serving   a 


THE  SERVANT-MASTER  245 

sorrowful  one  at  the  gate  of  Nain ;  again,  serving  a 
tormented  one  at  Gadara,  breaking  the  demoniac's 
chains ;  at  Capernaum,  Jerusalem,  Jericho,  serving 
the  lame,  the  dumb,  the  blind.  It  was  all  one  to 
Him  who  needed  the  service  of  His  love,  and 
whether  the  help  needed  was  for  the  body  or  for 
the  soul.  Whosoever,  wheresoever  they  were,  He 
served  them  gladly  and  He  served  them  all. 

Me,  too,  He  has  been  serving  lovingly  all  my 
years.  Bearing  my  heavy  burdens  has  been  His 
patient  daily  work  for  me,  from  the  first  hour 
I  asked  Him  to  do  it.  Carrying  my  messages 
to  the  throne  and  bringing  back  to  me  the  answers 
that  my  Father  gave,  that  also  has  been  His 
servant-work  in  my  behalf  for  many  years ; 
washing  the  garments  and  the  feet  that  I  have 
soiled  by  sin  ;  preparing  daily  my  heavenly  food 
and  setting  it  before  me;  lighting  for  me  my 
chamber  lamp, — His  smile  of  peace ;  spreading 
for  my  weariness  a  couch  of  quiet  rest, — the  assur- 
ance of  His  love.  It  has  been  aU  a  servant's  work, 
and  He  who  has  been  doing  it  is  my  great  heavenly 
Lord !  He  has  been  serving  me  long ;  He  is 
serving  me  still;  He  tells  me  He  will  serve  me 
to  the  very  last.  And  even  when  heaven  comes 
His  servant-work  will  be  continued  there,  for  I 
read  with  wondering  joy  those  words  of  His, 
*' Blessed  are  those  servants  whom  their  Lord, 
when  He  cometh,  shall  find  watching;  verily  I 
say  unto    you.   He  will  gird  Himself  and  make 


246  THE  SERVANT-MASTER 

them  to  sit  down  to  meat,  and  ivill  come  fortli  and 
serve  them.^^ 

If  this  is  my  Lord's  chosen  work,  I  cannot  ask 
Him  to  do  too  much  in  my  behalf.  Never  is  He 
better  pleased  than  when  I  give  over  into  His 
hands  every  burden  that  oppresses  me,  not  only 
the  burden  of  my  sins,  but  the  burden  of  my 
sorrows  and  my  cares.  Close  beside  me  every  day 
is  this  strong  serving  Christ,  who  gives  me  the 
privilege  of  using  Him,  as  the  centurion  made  use 
of  the  servants  under  him ;  for  I  have  but  to  ask 
Him  to  "go  for  me,  and  He  goeth  ;  to  come  to  me, 
and  He  cometh ;  to  do  this  for  me,  and  He  doeth 
it ! "  What  an  infinite  honour  is  put  on  me  by 
His  grace,  to  have  this  glorious  servant  of  the 
Father  waiting  to  serve  me,  and  always  glad  to  be 
asked  to  do  it !  I  would  be  both  holier  and 
happier  if  I  alloioed  Him  to  serve  me  as  fully 
as  He  longs  to  do  ;  if  I  oftener  asked  Him  to  bring 
out  to  me  the  treasures  of  heaven  to  which 
He  has  access  always ;  if  I  oftener  asked  Him 
to  fill  my  empty  vessels  as  well  as  to  wash  my 
earth-stained  feet;  if  I  only  gave  Him  all  my 
burdens  to  carry,  the  great  and  the  small  alike,  as 
He  is  so  willing  to  do.  Let  me  think  of  Him 
to-day  as  standing  ready  to  do  for  me  what  the 
servant  in  His  own  perfect  parable  did  for  the 
restored  and  wondering  prodigal  who  was  at  home 
in  the  Father's  house, — to  "bring  forth  the  best 
robe  and  put  it  on  me,  to  put  a  ring  on  my  hand 


THE  SERVANT-MASTER  247 

and  shoes  on  my  feet."  If  He  is  to  '*  save  me  to 
the  uttermost,"  it  can  only  be  by  serving  me  to  the 
uttermost.  I  must  let  Him  do  the  whole  work  of 
saving  me  and  sanctifying  me,  and  not  merely 
some  of  the  more  difficult  bits  of  the  work  that  I 
cannot  do  myself,  and  so  when  I  hear  my  great 
Servant-Master  saying,  "  If  J  wash  thee  not,  thou 
hast  no  part  with  Me,"  I  will  say  eagerly  to  Him, 
"  Wash  me  throughly  from  mine  iniquity,  and 
cleanse  me  from  all  my  sin." 


XXXVI 

THE  GEEAT  EXAMPLE 

"  Know  ye  what  I  have  done  to  you  ?  " — Johk  xiii.  12, 

Yes,  my  Master ;  in  this  great  act  of  love,  Thou 
hast  given  me  a  great  examjple  ;  hast  upHfted  me 
with  a  great  consolation ;  and  hast  warned  me  of 
a  great  danger,  which  I  am  too  apt  to  forget.  My 
Master's  example  teaches  me  to  be  willing  to  lay 
aside  every  thought  of  personal  superiority,  if  I 
can  do  the  humblest  of  my  brethren  good.  If  my 
brother  needs  it,  I  am,  even  literally,  to  wash  his 
feet ;  but,  whether  it  be  by  washing  his  feet,  or 
filling  his  hand,  or  drying  his  tears,  or  covering  his 
infirmities,  or  forgiving  his  faults,  or  praying  for 
his  soul,  I  am  to  imitate  my  Lord's  perfect  low- 
liness and  perfect  love.  Some  of  my  brethren 
have  defects  that  detract  from  the  beauty  of  their 
Christian  character,  failings  that  irritate  and 
annoy  me.  Close  contact  with  these  brethren  is 
somewhat  disagreeable.     They  are,  as  I  often  say, 

243 


THE  GREAT  EXAMPLE  249 

''difficult  to  get  on  with"  ;  and  I  am  tempted  to 
let  my  irritation  get  the  better  of  my  love;  to 
think  of  their  soiled  feet,  congratulating  myself 
that  my  own  are  clean ;  to  take  my  stand  above 
them,  parading,  instead  of  covering,  the  infirmities 
that  are  so  disagreeable  to  me ;  and  virtually 
saying  to  them,  "Wash  thy  feet  clean,  before  I 
will  sit  with  thee."  "  Nay,  but,"  says  my  Master, 
"  ye  ought  to  wash  one  another's  feet.  Remember 
how  defiling  the  dust  of  the  world  is  to  you  as  well 
as  to  them ;  none  can  pass  along  its  miry  roads 
without  soiling  his  feet ;  instead,  therefore,  of 
proudly  telling  your  brother  to  wash  his  feet,  do 
you  wash  them ;  do  not  condemn  him  simply, 
forgive  him  rather,  and  so  be  liker  Me." 

How  beautifully  has  the  curse  of  Canaan^  "  a 
servant  of  servants  shall  he  be  to  his  brethren," 
been  turned  by  my  great  Master  into  the  blessing 
of  the  Christian  and  his  glory  too,  through  likeness 
to  Him  who  took  the  curse  upon  Himself,  and 
became  servant  to  all !  My  only  way  of  rising 
is,  like  Christ's,  to  go  down.  The  post  of  lowliest 
service  is  the  post  of  highest  honour.  The  towel 
with  which  He  wiped  His  disciples'  feet  far  out- 
shone the  purple  that  wrapped  Caesar's  limbs. 
Shame  to  me  that  I  should  ever  speak  of  lowly 
work  in  an  obscure  and  humble  sphere  as  "  be- 
neath my  talents,"  or  "beneath  my  dignity," 
and  so  should  shrink  from  the  disagreeable  ele- 
ments connected  with  some  of  the  lowlier  forms  of 


250  THE   GREAT  EXAMPLE 

Christian  service,  forgetting  that  the  glorious 
Christ  laid  aside  His  glory  to  save  a  world  the 
hatefulness  of  whose  sin  must  have  been,  to  His 
feelings  of  repugnance,  infinitely  greater  than  the 
hatefulness  of  the  lowest  dens  of  vice  can  be  to 
me.  If  the  spirit  of  my  Lord  is  in  me  at  all,  I 
shall  be  glad  to  do  the  meanest  of  all  services  to 
the  meanest  of  all  my  brethren,  and  feel  as  Abigail 
did  when  she  said  to  David,  "  Let  me  be  a  servant 
to  wash  the  feet  of  the  servants  of  my  Lorcl.^' 

But,  as  I  ponder  my  Master's  words  at  this 
feet- washing,  I  see  that  He  has  given  me  a  great 
Christian  consolation  too.  I  find  that,  in  what 
He  said  to  Peter,  *'  He  that  is  washed  needeth  not 
save  to  wash  his  feet,  but  is  clean  every  whit"; 
for,  literally,  what  He  said  was  this,  "  He  that  has 
been  in  the  bath  needeth  not  save  to  wash  his 
feet."  In  the  bath  the  whole  body  had  been 
cleansed;  but  on  the  way  from  the  bath  to  the 
feast-chamber  the  sandalled  feet  would  become 
soiled  again ;  but  only  the  feet ;  and  there  was, 
therefore,  no  need  for  a  repetition  of  the  bath. 
My  Master,  transferring  this  to  the  region  of 
spiritual  things,  speaks  to  me  of  two  cleansings, 
both  of  which  are  needed;  but  one  of  which  is 
needed  only  once,  the  other  constantly.  If  I 
think  of  my  whole  life  of  faith  as  a  single  day, 
then,  in  the  morning  of  that  day,  there  is  the 
bath  of  regeneration;  that  is  where  my  new 
Christian  life  begins.     At  the  evening  of  the  day 


THE   GREAT  EXAMPLE  251 

there  is  to  be  the  feast  of  heaven ;  and  between 
these  two,  lies  the  whole  of  my  life-walk  on  earth. 
I  am  sinning  ever,  and  need  ever  to  be  washed 
afresh  from  fresh  pollution  of  the  feet ;  but  I  do 
not  need  for  this  a  repetition  of  the  hath.  When 
I  washed  in  the  "fountain  opened  for  sin,"  I  was 
regenerated  once  for  all.  This  it  is  that  gives  me 
the  right  to  be  called  a  "child  of  God."  I  was 
then  "born  from  above,"  and  that  privilege,  as 
it  cannot  be  lost,  does  not  need  to  be  repeated. 
However  true  it  be,  sadly  true,  that  the  soiling  of 
my  feet  goes  on — for  daily  contact  with  a  pol- 
luting world  cannot  but  leave  some  defilement  on 
me,  which  mars  my  peace,  as  well  as  spoils  my 
purity — and  however  true  it  be  that  from  this 
daily  defilement  I  must  be  daily  cleansed  by  daily 
grace  and  daily  forgiveness ;  it  still  remains  a 
blessed  fact  that  when  I  was  regenerated  I  was 
regenerated  once  for  all — and  have  been  ever 
since,  and  will  be  for  evermore,  a  child  in  the 
Father's  house,  having  an  assured  position  there, 
of  which  my  infirmities  do  not  deprive  me ;  so 
that  if,  at  any  moment,  my  feet  were  only 
cleansed,  I  would  be  "  clean  every  whit,"  would  be 
as  thoroughly  "  without  spot  and  blameless,"  even 
here,  as  I  will  be  when  the  sanctification  of  my 
whole  soul  and  body  and  spirit  is  at  last  complete. 
And  there  may  be  such  moments  in  my  life,  if  I 
am  trying  honestly  to  keep  in  fellowship  with 
God — moments  when  all  the  sin  of  the  daily  life  is 


252  THE  GREAT  EXAMPLE 

so  completely  forgiven,  and  the  holiness  of  my 
feelings  and  life  is  so  perfect  through  the  indwell- 
ing of  the  Holy  Ghost,  that,  if  death  were  to  come 
just  then,  no  further  washing  even  of  the  feet 
would  be  required  before  entering  the  palace  of 
the  King,  and  feasting  with  the  undefiled. 

Such  moments  will  probably  be  rare.  The 
holiness  of  such  moments  will  probably  be  lost 
again  very  soon.  Still,  the  possibility  of  being  in 
such  a  state,  occasionally  at  least,  cannot  be  denied, 
if  these  words  of  my  Master  are  true,  "He  is 
clean  every  whit."  And,  if  so,  I  can  easily  see 
how,  when  death  comes,  and  the  feet  that  have 
been  often  washed  before  are  washed  for  the  last 
time,  and  pass  in  beyond  the  possibility  of  being 
defiled  again,  I  should  be,  that  moment,  ^^pre- 
sented faultless  in  the  presence  of  His  glory,  with 
exceeding  joy  " — so  faultless  that  I  can  bear  to  be 
in  the  presence  of  His  glory,  without  shame  and 
without  fear.  That  "  the  souls  of  believers,  when 
they  die,  are  made  perfect  in  holiness,  and  do 
immediately  pass  into  glory,"  is,  therefore,  not 
merely  the  language  of  a  human  confession  of 
faith;  it  is  the  verdict  of  Christ  Himself. 

Yet,  let  me  not  forget  to  listen  to  my  Master's 
great  caution  too.  His  question,  ''  Know  ye  what 
I  have  done  to  you?"  shows  me  that,  however 
truly  regenerated  at  the  first,  there  is  no  disciple 
that  does  not  need,  thereafter,  a  daily  cleansing 
from  daily  sin.     This  was  what  He  suggested  so 


THE  GREAT  EXAMPLE  253 

vividly  by  washing  these  disciples'  feet.  But  I 
may,  perhaps,  understand  the  Lord  to  point  here 
to  a  still  deeper  truth,  one  that  does  not  lie  so 
much  upon  the  surface  as  that.  The  "  feet  "  may 
represent  to  me  the  lower  activities  of  life ;  and 
His  warning  may  be  that  it  is  in  the  realm  of 
lower  things,  rather  than  in  that  of  the  higher, 
that  my  chief  danger  of  defilement  lies ;  not  so 
much  in  the  lofty  exercises  of  spiritual  worship 
and  work  (though  even  there  sin  may  defile),  as  in 
the  lower  sphere  of  secular  affairs,  my  daily  con- 
tact with  earthly  things.  To  walk  undefiled 
through  the  whole  round  of  my  social  or  commer- 
cial or  political  life  is  more  difficult  than  to  be 
holy  in  the  sanctuary  and  the  chamber  of  prayer  ; 
and  yet,  do  I  not  condemn  myself  more  for  failures 
in  the  loftier  departments  of  my  Christian  hfe 
than  for  failures  in  these  lower  ones  ?  Do  not 
my  habitual  confessions  of  sin  refer  more  to  short- 
comings in  my  intercourse  with  God^  than  to 
failures  in  my  intercourse  with  men  }  "  Look  to 
your  /ee^,"  says  Jesus,  "  let  them  be  as  clean  as 
your  hands  and  your  head."  Let  me  be  well 
assured  that,  if  my  Master  is  dishonoured  by  me, 
it  will  be  in  the  smaller  things  of  life,  or  at  least 
in  the  lower  levels  of  life,  rather  than  in  the 
higher.  It  is  in  his  contact  with  the  world,  and 
in  his  love  of  the  world,  that  nearly  every  disciple 
finds  his  chief  danger  to  lie,  and  therefore  it  is  in 
the   ordinary,   rather  than  in  the   extraordinary, 


254  THE  GREAT  EXAMPLE 

duties  of  life,  that  he  needs  most  to  guard  his 
inward  purity.  And  past  cleansings  cannot  be 
enough.  These  will  leave  untouched  the  life  that 
has  gone  on  beyond  them.  Life  to  every  man 
is  a  constant  novelty.  New  temptations  are 
always  rising  up,  and  old  ones  confront  him  in 
new  shapes.  If  I  try  to  live  merely  on  the 
strength  of  grace  given  me  long  ago,  I  will  cer- 
tainly fall.  A  daily  cleansing  I  must  have  for 
daily  sin ;  and  daily  grace  is  as  needful  to  me  as 
daily  bread. 


XXXVII 
ENTHUSIASM  WITHOUT  DEPTH 

"  Wilt  thou  lay  down  thy  life  for  My  sake  ?  Verily,  verily,  I  say 
unto  thee,  the  cock  shall  not  crow  till  thou  hast  denied  Me  thrice." — 
John  xiii.  38. 

"  Do  ye  now  believe  ?  Behold,  the  hour  cometh,  yea,  is  now  come, 
that  ye  shall  be  scattered,  every  man  to  his  own,  and  shall  leave  Me 
alone." — John  xvi.  31,  32. 

What  a  sad  outlook  upon  the  disciples'  faithless- 
ness is  revealed  in  these  questions  of  the  Master ! 
They  all  meant  honestly  what  they  said ;  but  He 
knew  them  better  than  they  knew  themselves. 
Beneath  their  ardent  impulsive  and  quite  sincere 
professions  of  devoted  love,  He  saw  an  instability 
they  never  suspected,  and  knew  well  that  in  the 
testing  hour  their  fancied  strength  would  be  only 
a  broken  reed.  The  sad  failure  of  these  disciples 
speaks  loudly  to  all  disciples  still,  and  says,  "let 
not  him  that  girdeth  on  his  harness  boast  himself 
as  he  that  putteth  it  off."  It  will  be  well  for  me 
to  think  of  this  more  seriously  than  I  do. 

255 


256         ENTHUSIASM  WITHOUT  DEPTH 

No  fewer  than  four  times  had  Peter,  especially, 
been  warned  of  his  weakness,  and  of  the  sin  into 
which  that  weakness  would  lead  him,  and  yet  he 
was  so  blind  to  his  weakness,  so  proudly  confident 
of  his  strength,  that  his  fall  came  as  unexpectedly 
to  himself  as  though  he  had  never  been  warned  of 
it  at  all.  There  is  no  more  humiliating  page  in 
the  gospels  than  that  which  tells  how  Peter's  pride 
led  on  to  his  threefold  denial  of  the  Master  he  yet 
loved  so  well.  One  would  have  thought  that  the 
very  minuteness  of  Christ's  foreknowledge,  "  thou 
shalt  deny  Me  thrice,'''  and  '*  this  night,''  and  even 
"  hefore  the  cocJc  crow,"  would  have  startled  Peter 
out  of  his  dream  of  self-confidence.  But  nothing 
dies  more  hard  than  self-conceit ;  and  so  the 
strongest  of  all  became  the  weakest  of  all,  in  that 
hour  when  danger  on  the  one  side  and  his  cowar- 
dice upon  the  other,  combined  to  ruin  his  steadfast- 
ness. No  one  knows  how  terribly  far  he  may 
depart  from  truth,  and  honour,  and  Grod,  if  left  to 
himself.  Peter  went  far  upon  that  awful  road ; 
and,  but  for  the  grace  of  God,  and  his  patient 
Master's  prayers,  he  would  have  gone  farther  still, 
till  he  had  ended  in  an  apostasy  as  complete  as 
that  of  Judas  himself. 

Many  a  fortress  has  been  taken  by  assault,  not 
on  its  weakest  but  on  its  strongest  side,  because 
it  was  thought  to  be  so  impregnable  there  that  no 
special  watch  against  surprise  on  that  side  was 
required.       It  is   said  that    it   is  the    strongest 


ENTHUSIASM  WITHOUT  DEPTH         257 

swimmers  who  are  oftenest  drowned  at  the  coast, 
when  disporting  in  the  summer  sea ;  because  an 
overweening  confidence  in  their  power  of  endurance 
makes  them  venture  too  far  out,  and  the  fatal 
cramp  seizes  them,  ere  they  know.  Alas  !  this 
self-confidence  has  often  proved  to  be  my  deadliest 
foe.  I  have  ventured  boldly  where  I  ought  rather 
to  have  shrunk  back  timidly.  I  have  fancied 
myself  superior  to  the  very  temptation  that  over- 
powered me.  I  have  fallen  because  I  was  so 
foolishly  certain  I  could  stand.  I  have  looked  at 
sin  in  others,  and  have  congratulated  myself  that 
in  that  direction  at  least  there  was  no  fear  of  my 
being  overcome,  and  only  by  some  sad  experience 
of  a  fall  I  have  been  brought  to  acknowledge  the 
truth  that  "  Blessed  is  the  man  that  feareth 
alivayy  For,  if  Satan  can  but  ruin  me,  it  matters 
nothing  to  him  in  what  way  he  does  it,  whether 
by  openly  seducing  me  to  become  a  brutish  sen- 
sualist, or  by  flattering  me  into  the  fond  belief  that 
I  am  an  established  saint. 

There  is  much  food  for  serious  thought  in  the 
strange  fact  that  nearly  all  those  good  men,  whose 
sins  are  recorded  in  the  Book  of  God,  failed  pre- 
cisely in  those  directions  in  which  at  other  times 
their  chief  strength  lay.  Abraham,  who  so  con- 
spicuously walked  by  faith — '*  faithful  Abraham," 
— fell,  by  want  of  faith,  into  a  double  prevarication 
and  lie.  Moses,  the  meekest  of  men,  forfeited  his 
place     in    Canaan    through   a   passionate    word. 

18 


258         ENTHUSIASM  WITHOUT  DEPTH 

Solomon,  the  wisest  of  men,  was  guilty  of  the  utter 
folly  of  bowing  down  to  idols.  Barnabas,  the 
lovable  peacemaker,  had  an  angry  quarrel  with 
Paul.  Peter  the  bold,  was  cowardly  enough  to 
deny  his  Lord.  But,  just  as  the  seeds  of  fever 
are  lurking  in  all  manner  of  unsuspected  places, 
and  only  await  favourable  atmospheric  conditions 
to  develop  into  widespread  epidemics,  so  the  seeds 
of  evil  are  latent  in  every  heart,  and  only  require 
the  favourable  conditions  of  temptation  to  become 
open  sins  ;  and  thus,  integrity  at  one  moment  in  a 
Christian  life  is  no  absolute  guarantee  for  integrity 
the  next.  In  thinking  of  these  disciples'  self- 
ignorance,  and  the  Master's  knowledge  of  their 
inherent  weakness,  I  see  from  what  a  height,  and 
to  what  a  depth,  a  fall  is  possible  ;  and  I  hear  the 
salutary  caution  coming  to  myself,  '*  be  not  high- 
minded,  but  fear."  If  I  were  to  put  a  new  heading 
to  each  page  of  the  Bible  histories,  there  are  few 
indeed  that  would  not  need  it  to  be  this  :  "  Pride 
goeth  before  destruction,  and  a  haughty  spirit 
before  a  fall." 

The  Master's  prediction  was  terribly  verified  in 
the  case  of  all  these  disciples,  very  specially  so 
in  the  case  of  Peter ;  and  I  can  find  two  reasons 
for  his  fall  which  come  closely  home  to  myself. 
First  of  all  I  see  that  Peter  was  false  to  himself 
before  he  was  false  to  his  Master.  An  acted  lie 
preceded  the  spoken  ones.  He  had  put  himself 
in  a  false  position  in  the  High  Priest's  hall,  and. 


ENTHUSIASM  WITHOUT  DEPTH         259 

to  escape  close  scrutiny,  had  tried  to  pass  himself 
off  as  one  of  the  capturing  band.  He  began  by 
being  ashamed  of  any  connection  with  his  Master, 
and,  after  that,  a  farther  fall  was  not  only  easy, 
but  inevitable.  He  gave  a  sad  illustration  of  the 
progress  downwards  in  evil  so  sharply  described  in 
the  first  Psalm.  Beginning  by  "  walking  in  the 
counsel  of  the  ungodly,"  he  next  "  stood  in  the 
way  of  sinners,"  as  though  he  were  one  of  them, 
and  ended  by  ''  sitting  in  the  seat  of  the  scornful," 
for,  cursing  and  swearing,  he  said,  "  I  know  not  the 
man."  Entering  into  temptation  with  a  proud 
step,  he  found,  as  every  one  is  sure  to  find,  that, 
being  left  to  himself,  he  fell. 

Then,  secondly,  he  had  not  calculated  on  meeting 
just  the  hind  of  temptation  that  actually  came. 
When  he  said  so  valiantly,  "I  will  lay  down  my  life 
for  Thy  sake,"  he  was  thinking  only  of  a  fight  with 
the  sword ;  and  he  felt  he  could  do  that.  He  did 
draw  his  sword  in  the  garden,  and  would  have 
fought  on  to  the  bitter  end,  had  not  his  Master 
said  "  Put  up  thy  sword."  If  Christ's  kingdom  had 
to  be  won  by  arms,  Peter  would  easily  have  led  the 
van.  But  he  never  expected  the  kind  of  tempta- 
tion, so  dreadfully  prosaic  and  mean,  under  which 
he  fell.  He  had  never  even  thought  of  such  a 
thing  as  that,  with  no  glamour  of  heroism  about 
it  at  all.  It  is  often  so.  I  am  often  like  one  who 
is  occupied  with  an  enemy  in  front,  and  suddenly 
awake  to  the  fact  that  the  enemy  is  hehind.     I 


260         ENTHUSIASM  WITHOUT  DEPTH 

fortify  myself  against  defection,  by  arguments  based 
on  the  supposition  that  danger  will  confront  me 
only  at  some  definite  time  and  in  some  definite 
way,  and  when  it  appears  in  a  way  and  at  a  time 
completely  different,  my  unguarded  faith  gives 
way.  I  need  to  ponder  this  disciple's  own  advice, 
"Be  sober,  and  be  vigilant. ^^ 

And  now,  if  Peter's  fall  cautions  me,  Peter's 
restoration  comforts  me.  He  was  a  true  disciple 
at  heart ;  and  the  Grood  Shepherd  never  loses  any 
of  His  sheep.  The  bitter  tears  of  the  penitent 
disciple,  and  his  Master's  reinstatement  of  him 
in  his  forfeited  place,  prove  that.  Yet  let  me  not 
think  or  say  that  a  fall  like  his  matters  little,  if 
recovery  and  pardon  follow  it.  A  genuine  Chris- 
tian's temporary  fall  has  often  ruined  many  whom 
his  repentance  could  not  save.  The  growth  of 
evil  from  the  sowing  of  one  evil  seed  he  cannot 
prevent ;  and  no  more  bitter  thought  can  sadden 
a  restored  backslider's  heart  than  the  thought 
that,  by  his  declension  and  fall,  he  has  done  harm 
to  other  souls,  which  not  even  his  remorseful  tears 
and  prayers  can  ever  undo.  Though  it  be  a  great 
truth  that  came  afterwards  from  Peter's  lips,  that 
I  am  "  kept,  through  faith,  by  the  power  of  God, 
unto  salvation,"  there  is  a  truth  deeper  than  that, 
viz.,  that  my  faith  itself  needs  a  keeper,  else  it 
will  not  resist  the  temptations  of  a  single  day. 
There  is  certainly  no  necessity  that  a  Christian 
should  fall.     My  life  of  faith  might  be  a  life   of 


ENTHUSIASM  WITHOUT  DEPTH         261 

victory  all  along,  if  I  only  allowed  the  Holy  Spirit 
of  God  to  have  full  possession  of  me.  If  the  grace 
of  Christ  is  allowed  free  course  within  me,  it  will 
be  impossible  for  me  to  sin.  I  shall  never  take  a 
false  step.  But  it  is  just  there  that  the  infirmity 
of  my  faith  reveals  itself.  It  is  so  difficult  to  keep 
every  channel  of  the  soul  free  for  the  inflow  of  that 
grace — and  with  failure  there,  all  other  failures 
begin. 

Whenever,  therefore,  I  am  tempted  to  flatter 
myself  that  from  some  kinds  of  temptation  I  am 
in  no  danger  at  all,  let  me  remember  Peter's  pride. 
When  I  think  I  can  do,  even  for  an  hour,  without 
watchfulness  and  prayer,  let  me  remember  Peter's 
fall.  And  if,  for  the  sake  of  anything  on  earth,  I 
am  tempted  to  be  ashamed  of  Christ,  let  me 
remember  Peter's  tears. 


XXXVIII 
NEAE,  AND  YET  UNKNOWN 

'•  Have  I  been  so  long  time  with  you,  and  yet  hast  thou  not  known 
Me,  Philip  ?  He  that  hath  seen  Me  hath  seen  the  Father  ;  and  how 
sayest  thou  then.  Show  us  the  Father  ?  Believest  thou  not  that  I  am 
in  the  Father,  and  the  Father  in  Me  ?  " — John  xiv.  9,  10. 

Pathetic  questions  these  !  What  a  tone  of  grieved 
disappointment  there  is  in  them !  All  these  long 
years  of  closest  companionship  with  Him,  all  His 
teachings,  all  His  wondrous  works  gone  for  so  little  ! 
It  saddened  the  Lord  to  find  how  unspiritual  in 
understanding  Philip  still  was ;  how  he  and 
all  the  rest  were  still  so  utterly  blind  to  the 
real  glory  of  Him  in  whom  the  Father  had  been 
walking  beside  them  and  speaking  with  human 
voice.  "  Ye  have  already  seen  the  Father,"  said 
Jesus ;  and  they  only  lifted  up  amazed  faces,  and 
asked,  "  Where  ?  "  ''  When  ?  "  "  How  ?  "  "  Slioto 
us  the  Father  and  it  sufficeth  us,"  said  wondering 
Philip.     He  wanted   some   ecstatic   vision  which 

262 


NEAR,   AND  YET  UNKNOWN  263 

might  help  him  to  reahse  what  "  going  to  the 
Father  "  meant.  If  he  could  only  get  one  glimpse 
within  the  veil,  all  his  doubts  would  be  at  rest. 
Little  though  he  suspected  such  a  thing,  he  was 
as  yet  on  no  higher  spiritual  plane  than  the  thick- 
witted  Pharisees  who  asked  "  a  sign  from  heaven  " 
that  they  might  believe.  This  very  unspiritual 
disciple  was  still  walking  by  sight  instead  of  by 
faith,  and  so  he  had  missed  seeing  the  very  truth 
he  had  been  longing  for.  "  For  three  years,"  said 
Jesus  to  him,  "  the  Father  has  been  before  your 
eyes.  When  you  listened  to  My  words  you  were 
hearing  the  Father's  voice ;  when  you  watched  My 
works  you  were  seeing  the  Father's  hand.  You 
have  already  seen,  in  Me,  all  that  you  will  ever  see 
of  the  Father  on  this  side  of  heaven ;  perhaps  all 
you  will  ever  see,  even  there.  I  and  the  Father 
are  one.  I  am  in  the  Father^  for  I  have  no 
word,  no  will,  no  act  of  My  own  apart  from  Him  ; 
and  the  Father  is  in  Me,  for  all  that  He  is,  I  am." 
There  is  unquestionably  a  profound  mystery 
here,  the  deepest  of  all  mysteries ;  a  mystery 
whose  depth  cannot  be  fathomed  by  any  man. 
But  then  I  am  not  required  to  fathom  it.  I  am 
asked  simply  to  believe  it  on  the  authority  of  Him 
who  is  the  Absolute  Truth.  Even  Christ  does  not 
propose  to  make  my  understanding  of  it  plain.  He 
appeals  to  His  works  to  prove  it ;  but,  ultimately, 
my  acceptance  of  it  can  only  be  an  act  of  trust. 
Philip's  mistake  was  not  that  he  could  not  solve 


264  NEAR,  AND   YET  UNKNOWN 

the  mystery,  but  that  he  did  not  see  there  was  any 
mystery  to  be  solved.  The  Lord  Jesus  had  been 
to  him  little  more  than  a  wise  human  Teacher,  a 
dear  earthly  friend.  He  had  no  conception  of  such 
a  thing  as  a  God-man.  He  knew  of  a  Father,  he 
knew  of  a  Son,  but  he  never  for  a  moment 
imagined  they  could  be  one  and  the  same.  And 
there  was  much  to  justify  his  view.  Jesus  had 
often  spoken  of  Himself  as  "  coming  from  "  and 
"  going  to  "  the  Father.  Himself  standing  beside 
them  on  earth,  He  had  taught  them  to  look  up  and 
say,  ''  Our  Father,  which  art  in  heaven^  They 
had  seen  Him  lift  His  own  eyes  to  heaven  and 
pray  to  His  Father  there.  And  with  that  side  of 
the  truth  so  prominent,  it  was  difficult  for  them  to 
see  its  other  side,  or  to  know  what  He  could  mean 
when  He  called  Himself  "  the  Son  of  Man  ivho  is 
in  heaven.''^ 

This  deep  mystery  is  one  before  which  I  am 
dumb — that  the  Son  of  man  should  say  "  Thou  " 
to  the  Father,  that  the  Father  should  say  "  Thou  " 
to  the  Son,  and  yet  that  that  Son  should  say,  "  I 
and  the  Father  are  so  one  that  I  am  in  the  Father 
and  the  Father  in  Me  ;  he  that  hath  seen  me  hath 
seen  the  Father  " — it  is  high ;  I  cannot  attain 
to  it. 

And  yet  my  perplexity  may  somewhat  disappear, 
if  I  think  of  the  life  of  Jesus  upon  earth  as  being 
simply  the  invisible  and  omiiijjresent  God  putting 
on  a  visible  form  that  only  enfolded  a  presence 


NEAR,  AND  YET  UNKNOWN  265 

always  there,  but  made  itself  capable,  for  a  short 
season,  of  being  seen ;  for  the  scriptural  concep- 
tion is  not  God  and  Christ,  it  is  "  God  m  Christ." 
I  really  know  God  only  in  Him.  Perhaps  I  shall 
never  know  Him  in  any  other  way ;  perhaps  my 
only  vision  of  God  to  all  eternity  may  be  "in  the 
face  of  Jesus  Christ."  But  where  reasoning 
staggers,  a  simple  faith  can  stand ;  and  this  is  my 
faith,  that  seeing  Christ,  I  see  the  Father ;  having 
Christ,  I  have  the  Father  also.  "  Emmanuel,  God 
ivith  us,''^  is  a  truth  over  which  self -wise  men  will 
stumble  to  the  last ;  but  it  is  a  truth  at  which 
simple  hearts  never  stumbled,  and  never  will. 
This  "  mystery  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,"  like 
all  others,  is  "  hid  from  the  wise  and  prudent,  and 
revealed  to  babes." 

Whenever,  therefore,  I  listen  to  my  Lord,  I  will 
listen  uyon  nuj  hiees.  I  will  ivorsJiij)  Him  who  speaks 
to  me  of  His  wondrous  glory,  and  I  will  ponder  the 
comfort  of  this  truth  as  well  as  its  glory;  for  if  the  life 
of  Jesus  was  just  the  human  life  of  God,  how  very 
near  the  Most  High  has  come  to  me  in  His  Son ! 
how  perfect  a  revelation  of  the  heart  of  the  Most 
High  is  given  me  in  the  words  and  acts  of  the  Son  ! 
If  I  have  not  the  consolation  of  knowing  that  my 
Saviour  is  very  God,  I  lose  the  whole  comfort  of 
His  life  and  death  and  reign  and  coming  again  ;  I 
am  robbed  of  the  one  thing  that  sustains  me  in  the 
fears  and  doubts  and  discouragements  of  my  own 
life  here.     It  is  no  barren  dogma  this ;  it  is  not 


266  NEAR,  AND  YET  UNKNOWN 

one  which  I  may  receive  or  let  alone  without 
damage  to  my  hopes.  If  my  Saviour  be  not  the 
Eternal  God,  I  could  not  be  safe  or  happy  for  a 
day.  The  mystery  of  it  I  confess,  but  a  God 
whom  I  can  perfectly  fathom  would  be  no  God  to 
me ;  a  religion  without  mystery  would  not  satisfy 
me,  or  give  me  rest.  There  is  rest,  however,  for 
me  here  ;  for  this  mysterious  union  of  the  Father 
and  the  Son  draws  out  and  deepens  my  confidence 
in  both.  I  am  not  perpetually  asking  whether 
Christ's  words  are  really  the  Father's  voice,  or 
whether  Christ's  promises,  as  from  the  Father, 
will  be  honoured  by  the  Father  ;  for  my  faith  rests 
in  this:  "I  and  the  Father  are  one,"  and  so  I 
make  my  anchor  fast  within  the  veil. 

And  yet  how  slow  I  am  to  realise  all  that  this 
means  to  me  !  My  Lord  may  well  say  to  me  what 
He  said  to  Philip,  "  Have  I  been  so  long  time  with 
you,  and  yet  hast  thou  not  known  Me  ?  "  Surely 
I  have  never  known  Him  as  I  ought,  otlieriuise 
God  ivould  not  seem  to  me,  as  He  sometimes  does, 
so  unsympathetic  and  cold;  a  God  enthroned  in 
majesty  in  some  distant  heaven,  but  not  near 
enough  or  human  enough  to  care  much  about  me, 
or  be  a  real  helper  to  me  in  my  need. 

I  do  not  know  Him  as  I  ought,  otherwise  I  would 
not  misjudge  Him  as  I  do.  He  has  been  infinitely 
tender  and  loving  in  all  my  past  experience  of 
Him.  Why  cannot  I  trust  Him  still  ?  In  times  of 
bewildering  doubt,  arising  from  crushing  grief,  He 


NEAR,  AND  YET  UNKNOWN  267 

comes  to  me  and  says,  *'  Hast  thou  not  known  Me 
in  the  past  ?  Why  not  believe  Me  again  to-day?  " 
Eeally  to  know  Him  is  to  know  a  love  that  never 
changes  and  never  fails.  To  doubt  that  love  in 
new  emergencies  is  only  to  prove  that  I  have  never 
known  Him  in  the  old. 

I  do  not  know  Him  as  I  ought,  othenvise  I 
would  not  be  so  luorld-loving  as  I  am.  He  shows 
me,  in  His  own  life,  what  my  chief  aim  in  mine 
should  be  :  not  to  be  great,  not  to  be  popular,  not 
to  be  rich,  but  "to  do  the  will  of  my  Father  who 
is  in  heaven."  I  call  myself  by  His  name ;  I 
profess  to  *'  walk  even  as  He  walked,"  to  ''  have 
the  same  mind  in  me  that  was  in  Him  ;  "  and  yet 
how  sadly  different  my  self-pleasing,  world-loving 
life  from  His  !  Do  I  really  know  my  Master  even 
yet,  when  I  am  straining  my  energies  to  secure  all 
that  the  world  can  give,  or  w^orrying  about  the 
future,  measuring  my  poor  resources  to  see  if  they 
will  meet  all  manner  of  imagined  evils  lying  in 
front  ?  Let  me  think  more  of  my  unworldly 
Master,  who  simply  lived  upon  the  Father's  care, 
and  for  the  Father's  glory.  Let  me  see  Him 
bending  over  me  and  saying,  with  heavenly  pity 
in  His  tone,  "  Poor,  troubled,  doubting,  anxious 
one,  hast  thou  not  known  Me  yet  ?  " 

I  do  not  know  Him  as  I  ought,  othenvise  I  would 
not  doubt  His  forgiveness  after  fresh  sin,  as  I  often 
do.  Sin  daily  saddens  and  shames  me ;  and  it 
sometimes  seems  as  if  He  could  not  go  on  for- 


268  NEAR,  AND  YET  UNKNOWN 

giving  me  day  after  day,  but  must  be  wearied  out 
with  me  and  give  me  up.  But  I  do  not  hnow  Him 
if  I  think  He  will.  He  who  gave  His  disciples  a 
rule  for  their  forgiveness  acts  upon  it  Himself, 
"not  until  seven  times,  but  until  seventy  times 
seven."  I  long,  too,  to  be  free  from  the  power  of 
sin.  I  struggle  and  resolve  and  pray,  but  all  in 
vain.  The  old  failures  constantly  recur,  till  hope 
of  victory  is  quenched.  In  this  case,  also,  let  me 
hear  my  pitying  Lord  saying,  "  Hast  thou  not 
known  Me  yet  as  One  who  can  save  to  the  utter- 
most, and  give,  not  pardon  only,  but  perfect 
victory  as  well  ?  ' ' 

I  do  not  know  Him  as  I  ought,  otherwise  I  would 
not  dotiht  that  He  will  "  deliver  me  from  every  evil 
worJc,  and  preserve  me  to  His  heavenly  kingdom." 
Oh,  for  a  deeper  knowledge  of  all  that  this 
Almighty  Christ  can  do! 


XXXIX 

THE    MOENING    OF    JOY 

"Do  ye  inquire  among  yourselves  of  that  I  said,  A  little  while, 
and  ye  shall  not  see  Me,  and  again,  a  little  while,  and  ye  shall 
see  Me?" — John  xvi.  19. 

Some  of  the  Lord's  questions  were  meant  to  rehuTie 
curiosity,  but  some  were  meant  rather  to  excite  it. 
Many  of  His  sayings  were  purposely  enigmatical, 
that  dull  hearts  might  be  stirred  up  to  ask  what 
His  meaning  really  was.  "What  He  had  just  been 
saying  was  a  riddle  to  them ;  and  though  a  riddle 
is  always  simple  when  we  have  the  key,  it  was 
precisely  the  key  to  this  one  that  none  of  them  had. 
He  did  not  rebuke  them  for  their  ignorance.  He 
knew  that  they  could  not  solve  the  difficulty,  and 
so,  as  He  saw  them  puzzling  helplessly  over  it  and 
awed  into  silence  in  His  presence,  so  that  they  did 
not  dare  to  ask  Him  what  He  meant.  He  was  filled 
with  compassion  for  them,  and  introduced  the 
subject  Himself.  And  yet,  as  I  read  His  words,  it 
seems  strange  that  He  gave  them  no  farther  light. 

269 


270  THE  MORNING  OF  JOY 

Was  it  not  because  a  few  weeks  more  would  show 
them,  on  Olivet,  what  "going  to  the  Father' 
meant  ?  and  because  the  chief  thing  that  puzzled 
them.  His  seven-times  repeated  "  a  little  while," 
was  such  a  small  thing  after  all?  All  the  great 
matters  He  had  been  discoursing  about  passed  over 
their  heads,  but  when  He  came  to  matters  of 
chronology,  mysterious  appearances  and  disappear- 
ances, they  were  awake  enough,  and  interested  at 
once.  They  were  only  children  yet,  and  put 
childish  questions,  to  which  He  would  give  no 
answer  then.  A  few  weeks  more,  and  all  would 
be  plain ;  but  meanwhile  they  must  wait. 

The  Church  of  to-day  has  need  to  take  this 
lesson  home;  for  the  same  foolish  eagerness  to 
know  the  "when"  of  the  Lord's  coming,  and  to 
puzzle  over  questions  of  chronology  and  dates,  is 
too  rife  among  disciples  still.  Let  me  rather  think 
of  the  great  purpose  of  His  appearing,  and  help 
that  on,  than  perplex  myself  with  bewildering 
speculations  and  guesses  about  the  Jwur. 

But  what  did  the  Master  really  mean  by  His 
"little  while"  of  absence,  and  His  "coming 
again  "  ?  I  cannot  think  He  was  referring  only  to 
the  three  days  that  would  elapse  till  they  saw  Him 
risen,  and  "were  glad";  for  His  "going  to  the 
Father  "  was  to  take  place  before  the  sight  that 
would  turn  their  sorrow  into  joy.  I  cannot  think 
He  meant  that  they  would  have  a  spiritual  vision 
of  Him  after  Pentecost ;  for  the  "  not  seeing  "  and 


THE  MORNING  OF  JOY  271 

the  "  seeing"  were  evidently  to  be  the  same  hind 
of  sight,  not  physical  in  one  case  and  spiritual  in 
another,  but  both  of  them  the  seeing  with  the 
bodily  eye.  It  is  just  this,  indeed,  that  continues 
to  make  His  promise  cheering  to  me,  and  to  all  the 
Church  till  earth's  latest  day.  The  seeing  of  the 
Lord  is  still  its  "  blessed  hope,"  and  mine  ;  and  so, 
when  He  tells  me  that  His  absence  will  be  only  for 
"  a  little  while,"  the  great  hope  springs  to  life 
within  me,  that  His  "  glorious  appearing  "  may  be 
far  nearer  than  I  think;  for  He  does  not  reckon 
time  by  earthly  years,  and  that  may  seem  to  Him 
exceedingly  short  which  seems  to  me  almost 
unendurably  long. 

I  will  "  comfort  myself,  therefore,  with  these 
words."  As  I  listen  to  this  kindly  au  revoir,  "I 
will  see  you  again,"  I  will  think  of  Him  as  one  who, 
in  taking  leave  for  a  season,  leaves  His  heart 
behind  Him,  and  will  not  be  absent  one  moment 
longer  than  He  must;  one  who,  all  through  the 
years  of  absence,  continues  loving  those  He  has 
left  behind,  continues  thinking,  planning,  praying 
for  them,  and  is  every  day  anticipating  the  joyous 
hour  when.  His  heavenly  work  being  as  gloriously 
"finished"  as  His  eartldy  work  was.  He  will  be 
able  to  "  come  again  and  receive  them  to  Himself, 
that  where  He  is  they  may  be  also."  I  will  think 
of  Him  as  not  really  absent,  after  all,  but  near  me 
still,  far  nearer  than  He  could  have  been  had  He 
remained  below ;  but  I  will  also  think  of  Him  as 


272  THE  MORNING  OF  JOY 

soon  to  show  Himself  to  my  bodily  eye,  when  the 
"  redemption  of  the  body  "  has  come,  and  I  have 
an  eye  that  can  bear  the  blaze  of  His  glory  and 
"  see  Him  as  He  is."  It  is  a  blessed  hope ;  and 
yet  I  echo  the  words  of  one  who  loved  Him  well, 
"  Thou  callest  it  a  little  while ;  0  my  Lord,  it  is  a 
long,  long  little  while  ;  come,  Lord,  come  quickly." 
Why  should  I  so  desire  the  speedy  coming  of  my 
Lord  ?  He  gives  me  one  reason  for  that  when  He 
says  "Your  sorrow  shall  be  turned  into  joy"  :  and 
I  think  He  means  not  only  sorrow  for  His  absence, 
but  all  sorrow,  sorrow  of  every  kind,  sorrow  in  life 
and  sorrow  in  the  soul ;  those  sorrows  especially 
which  only  His  coming  can  take  finally  away  :  the 
sorrows  that  come  from  the  presence  of  sin  on  the 
earth,  and  the  dimming  of  His  glory  by  a  scornful 
world  and  an  unfaithful  Church. 

I  cannot  but  anticipate  eagerly  the  passing  away 
of  all  sorrows  from  my  own  personal  life,  and  the 
finding  of  these  not  merely  succeeded  by  joy  but 
^^  turned  into''  joy;  so  that  the  very  things  that 
now  cause  my  tears  shall  be  the  subject  of  my 
songs.  But  this  will  come  to  me  the  first  moment 
I  am  within  the  veil,  when  I  will  be  able  to  look 
back  and  read  the  hieroglyphics  of  God's  love, 
which  now  I  can  but  dimly  understand.  I  will  see 
clearly  then  what  here  I  cannot  always  see,  the 
golden  thread  that  ran  underneath  the  darkest 
portions  of  the  web  of  life,  a  thread  that,  though 
often  hid,  was  never  broken  from  first  to  last. 


THE  MORNING  OF  JOY  273 

But  this,  after  all,  is  a  thing  that  concerns  my- 
self alone.  There  is  another  and  even  higher  joy 
awaiting  me,  which  can  be  mine  only  when  my 
Lord  comes  back  to  reign — the  joy  of  seeing  a 
world  from  which  all  sorrow  has  been  banished, 
because  sin,  the  cause  of  the  sorrow,  has  been 
everywhere  destroyed.  It  is  not  my  own  personal 
release  from  suffering  that  makes  me  long  for  that 
bright  day.  It  is  that  the  ivliole  world's  release 
will  be  accomplished  then.  The  world  is  a  long 
way  yet  from  being  the  blessed  dominion  of  G-od's 
Christ ;  and,  if  I  do  not  misjudge  them,  many 
Christians  do  not  seem  to  be  much  distressed  by 
that  sad  fact.  It  needs  one  to  be  in  fuller 
sympathy  with  Christ  than  contents  most  of  His 
disciples,  to  feel  acutely  the  dishonour  done  to 
Him  by  the  world's  sin,  or  to  be  really  saddened  by 
the  slow  progress  of  His  kingdom.  Yet  there  are 
some — let  me  be  one  of  them — who  know  how 
depressing  is  the  thought  of  this,  and  how  vain 
the  struggle  for  Christ's  supremacy  seems  to  be ; 
prayers,  efforts,  tears  alike  as  if  thrown  away ;  sin 
as  rampant  as  ever ;  Satan  seated  as  securely  on 
his  throne  as  ever ;  the  tares  growing  everywhere 
faster  than  the  wheat ;  till  the  cry  of  their  hearts  is 
a  half-despairing  "how  long,  0  Lord?  how  long? 
Are  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  ever,  at  this  rate,  to 
become  the  kingdom  of  Thy  Son  ?  " 

But  the  blessed  hope  shines  out,  that  what  all 
human  effort  cannot  do,  Christ  Himself  is  coming 

19 


274  THE  MORNING  OF  JOY 

to  do.  I  know  that  there  will  be  wonderful  things 
accomplished  yet  by  increasing  faith  and  prayer : 
that  there  will  be  marvellous  outpourings  of  the 
Spirit  from  on  high  ;  that  there  will  be  displays  of 
His  converting  and  sanctifying  power  on  a  scale  so 
large  as  to  make  all  previous  displays  of  them 
look  poor.  Still,  all  these  will  not  make  earth  a 
heaven,  nor  even  a  satisfying  miniature  of  heaven. 
It  will  need  the  sweep  of  Christ's  own  judgment- 
sword  to  purge  the  world  finally  of  its  sin,  and 
bring  in  the  righteousness  and  peace  that  will 
endure  for  ever.  I,  and  all  who  love  Him,  are  only 
like  King  David,  eager  to  build  God's  temple,  but 
not  permitted ;  and  all  that  He  says  to  us  is  this  : 
"  Thou  didst  well  that  it  was  in  thine  heart." 
But  Solomon,  the  "Prince  of  Peace,"  is  yet  to 
come,  and  ^'  He  shall  build  the  temple  of  the  Lord, 
and  He  shall  bear  the  glory."  It  is  a  joyful  hope 
that  I  may  live  to  see  it ;  at  least  I  know  that  I 
shall  die  to  see  it :  for  He  shall  come ;  and  then 
the  long  sin-cursed  earth  shall  be  the  "  new  earth  " 
where  the  "  new  life  "  shall  be  complete,  the  "  new 
name"  shall  shine  out  on  every  face,  and  the 
"  new  song  "  shall  be  on  every  lip.  As  I  think  of 
this  my  heart  is  glad,  and  I  ask  Him  how  I  can 
hasten  that  day ;  how  I  can  work  on  earth  as  He  is 
doing  in  heaven,  "expecting  till  His  enemies  be 
made  His  footstool."  For  if  this  is  meant  to  be  a 
comforting  hope,  it  is  meant  to  be  a  quicJcening 
hope  as  well.     "  Seeing  I  look  for  such  things, 


THE  MORNING  OF  JOY  275 

what  manner  of  person  ought  I  to  be  ?  "  I  would 
not  have  my  Lord  surprise  me,  either  in  my  sleep 
or  in  my  slothfulness.  I  would  not  be  *'  ashamed 
before  Him  at  His  coming."  It  was  a  good  rule 
given  for  a  holy  walk,  "  live  as  if  you  were  sure  to 
die  to-night " ;  but  I  think  an  even  better  rule 
would  be  this,  "  Live  as  if  your  Lord  would  come 
before  to-morrow."  Let  me  learn  to  "watch  and 
pray  that  I  may  be  accounted  worthy  to  stand 
before  the  Son  of  Man,"  and  echo  the  words  of 
John  Milton,  written  amid  the  distractions  of  his 
troubled  time : — 


•'  Come,  Thou  that  hast  the  seven  stars  in  Thy  right  hand, 
Ke-light  the  golden  candlestick  that  has  long  been  dimmed ; 
Appoint  Thy  chosen  priests  to  minister  before  Thee ;  come 
Forth  out  of  Thy  royal  chamber,  0  Prince  of  all  the  earth, 
Put  on  the  robes  of  Thy  imperial  majesty,  take  up  the 
Universal  sceptre  which  Thy  Father  hath  bequeathed 
To  Thee ;  for  the  voice  of  Thy  Church  is  calling  for  Thee, 
And  all  Creation  sighs  to  be  renewed." 


XL 
A  NOBLE   TESTIMONY 

"  When  I  sent  you  without  purse,  and  scrip,  and  shoes,  lacked 
ye  anything?    And  they  said.   Nothing." — Luke  xxii.  85. 

It  was  a  noble  testimony  these  disciples  bore  to 
their  Lord  and  Master,  and  it  was  hearty  too. 
He  had  just  been  acknowledging  that  they  had 
been  faitliful  to  Him,  "  continuing  with  Him  in 
His  temptations,"  and  now  He  asks  if  He  had  not 
been  faithful  to  tliem.  He  had  sent  them  forth 
to  the  kingdom's  work  in  the  same  condition  as  He 
went  to  it  Himself,  in  absolute  dependence  on  the 
daily  providence  of  God  :  and  all  their  wants  had 
been  supplied ;  for  He  had  never  lost  sight  of  them 
for  a  moment,  and  it  was  He  that  inclined  the 
hearts  of  others  to  be  kind  to  them.  They  had 
not  always  shown  themselves  to  be  trustworthy 
disciples ;  but  He  had  always  shown  Himself  to 
be  the  most  trustworthy  of  Masters,  and  when  He 
asked  them  if  His  promises  had  not  come  true, 
they  gladly  answered  "Yes." 

276 


A  NOBLE  TESTIMONY  277 

He  is  calling  for  a  like  testimony  from  me  to- 
day ;  and  I,  too,  can  give  it  joyfully.  Sadly  though 
I  have  failed  in  my  duty  to  Him,  He  has  never 
failed  in  His  love  to  me.  Long  ago  I  said,  "He 
is  my  Shepherd,  and  I  shall  not  want  "  ;  now,  after 
years  of  experience,  I  can  say  "  Goodness  and 
mercy  have  followed  me  all  the  days  of  my  life." 
"Not  one  good  thing  has  failed  of  all  that  the 
Lord  spake  concerning  me ;  all  is  come  to  pass." 
I  remember  how,  once,  I  stood  at  the  gateway  of 
my  life,  looking  out  into  the  strange,  untrodden, 
unfamiliar  country  in  front,  which  I  would  soon 
need  to  cross.  I  looked  out  with  vague  guess- 
ings  and  fond  hopes,  with  ardent  wishes  and 
whispered  fears  ;  but  I  put  myself  trustfully  for 
all  the  journey  into  the  keeping  of  my  Lord ;  and 
He  undertook  the  work  both  of  guidance  and  of 
provision  :  and  now  I  see  how  wisely  and  lovingly 
I  have  been  led,  how  good  and  patient  with  me  He 
has  always  been,  forgiving  my  foolish  fears,  over- 
ruling my  mistakes,  "  crowning  me  with  loving- 
kindness  and  tender  mercy  "  all  along.  Always 
over  me  were  the  wings  of  His  love.  Always 
underneath  me  were  His  "  everlasting  arms." 
I  can  give  thanks  to  this  Lord  of  my  life,  "  for 
He  is  good  and  His  mercy  endureth  for  ever  "  ; 
and  as  one  of  the  "  redeemed  of  the  Lord"  I  will 
^^  say  so.''  If  He  wants  my  testimony  He  shall 
have  it  with  my  whole  heart:  "I  have  lacked 
nothing." 


278  A  NOBLE  TESTIMONY 

If  I  do  not  praise  my  God  sufficiently,  if  ever 
my  heart-song  is  hushed,  if  my  praise-harp  gives 
out  no  music  because  of  broken  strings,  it  is 
only  because  I  have  such  a  treacherous  memory 
for  the  gentle  ministrations  of  His  continual  care  ; 
because  I  let  a  few  occasional  sorrows  obscure  His 
abiding  goodness ;  and  because  I  do  not  get  low 
enough  to  feel  that  I  am  not  worthy  of  even  the 
smallest  mercies  of  His  holy  hand.  There  has 
been  enough  in  my  life  to  make  material  for  mur- 
muring if  I  dwell  only  upon  the  darkness;  if  I 
forget  the  great  wonders  of  His  love,  and  magnify 
the  small  troubles  that  have  now  and  then  been 
mingled  with  them ;  but  there  will  be  more  than 
enough  to  make  me  ashamed  of  a  single  murmur- 
ing word  if  I  only  think  back,  and  see  how  tender 
and  pitiful  and  good  my  God  has  ever  been. 
According  as  I  look  at  it,  I  can  make  my  review  of 
life  either  bright  or  dark ;  and  there  are  facts  for 
both.  But  then  the  facts  that  feed  my  gloom  are 
only  partial  and  superficial ;  the  facts  that  call  for 
praise  are  deep  and  everlasting. 

I  do  not  wonder  at  my  God  complaining,  as  He 
so  often  did,  of  that  old  people  whom  He  led 
through  the  wilderness  for  forty  years,  that  they 
were  always  forgetting  His  goodness  when  any  fresh 
trial  came ;  for  that  has  been  my  sin  too.  They 
complained  of  sufferings,  but  really  theirs  was  not 
a  suffering  life  by  any  means.  It  was  full  of 
strange  mercies  from   first   to  last.      Bread   fell 


A  NOBLE  TESTIMONY  279 

daily  to  them  out  of  the  heaven  above  them ;  a 
river  of  cool  water  followed  them  for  their  thirst ; 
they  had  the  merciful  shadow  of  the  overspreading 
cloud  to  temper  the  heat  and  glare  of  the  desert, 
and  its  mighty  gleam  of  fire  to  brighten  the  camp ; 
"  their  raiment  waxed  not  old  upon  them,  neither 
did  their  foot  swell,  these  forty  years  "  ;  and  yet  a 
few  occasional  privations  of  needless  luxuries  made 
them  cry  out  as  if  their  God  had  done  them  a 
bitter  wrong ! 

That  has  been  my  folly  too.  If  my  Grod  were  to 
recount  to  me,  from  His  unfailing  memory,  all  that 
He  has  done  for  me  in  the  years  that  lie  behind 
me,  I  would  be  both  amazed  and  shame-stricken  at 
my  forgetfulness  of  His  love ;  and  if  He  were  to 
ask  me  whether  I  have  lacked  any  one  thing  of  all 
the  good  He  promised  me,  I  could  only  "  abund- 
antly utter  the  memory  of  His  great  goodness," 
and  say  "  I  have  lacked  nothing." 

Can  I  not  trustfully  anticipate  a  continuance  of 
this  great  goodness  still  ?  The  logic  of  faith  is 
this,  "  He  hath  been  with  me  in  six  troubles,  and  in 
seven  He  will  not  forsake  me."  There  are  rich 
manifestations  of  my  Lord's  goodness  which  He 
has  never  shown  me  yet,  but  which  He  is  keeping 
in  reserve ;  and  He  will  give  me  all  of  them 
according  to  my  need  :  as  Bunyan  quaintly  puts  it, 
''  The  Lord  has  many  bags  of  mercy  lying  by  Him, 
the  seals  of  which  He  has  never  broken  yet."  My 
testimony  to-day,  as  I  look  at  part  of  my  life,  will 


280  A  NOBLE  TESTIMONY 

be  my  testimony  at  the  end,  as  I  look  at  the  whole ; 
and  therefore  I  will  ask  my  grateful  memory  to 
help  me  to  a  trustful  hope.  "  I  have  lacked 
nothing,"  and  I  am  sure  I  never  shall.  Though  I 
cannot  see  even  one  day's  march  ahead,  *'  I  will 
trust  and  not  be  afraid." 

Pilgrims  through  time,  unlike  pilgrims  through 
space,  must  necessarily  be  ignorant  of  the  region 
in  front.  There  are  no  maps  of  it  to  consult,  no 
reports  from  previous  explorers  to  study.  There  is 
not  even  a  mount  of  vision  to  which,  like  Moses, 
one  might  climb  to  see  the  land  afar.  My  future 
upon  earth  is  to  me  all  unknown.  I  only  know 
that  if  I  have  the  hidden  secrets  of  God  in  front  of 
me,  I  have  the  wings  of  God  to  overshadow  me,  the 
hand  of  God  to  lead  me,  the  presence  of  God  to 
cheer  me,  the  great  Lord,  to  whom  past  and  present 
and  future  are  all  alike,  to  be  my  guide  and  guard 
for  ever. 

A  celebrated  German  mystic  used  to  write  in  the 
albums  of  his  friends,  "  He  to  whom  time  is  as 
eternity,  and  eternity  as  time,  is  delivered  from 
all  strife."  The  saying  looks  enigmatical,  and  was 
meant  to  be  so;  but  the  meaning  is  clear.  He 
who  possesses  the  love  and  care  of  the  changeless 
God  has  eternity  even  here  ;  and  knowing  that  the 
same  perfect  love  is  over  both,  he  will  be  delivered 
from  all  strife.  The  strife  of  outward  trouble  will 
not  move  him,  and  from  the  strife  of  a  restless 
heart  or  discontented  mind  he  will  be  completely 


A  NOBLE  TESTIMONY  281 

free.  Abiding  in  God  he  will  be  lifted  out  of  time 
into  God's  eternity,  which  knows  nothing  of  time, 
and  so  have  the  peace  of  that  eternity  even  now. 
To  feel  all  this  is  part  of  the  daily  bread  of  heaven 
which  my  Father  in  heaven  gives  me  to  eat.  To 
think  of  His  love  as  being  anything  lower  than 
this  is  to  dishonour  Him.  To  say  on  bent  knee, 
"  My  Father,"  and  then,  rising  up,  to  live  as  though 
mine  were  an  orphaned  life;  to  say,  "I  believe  in 
His  love,  but  it  is  only  in  heaven  ;  I  believe  in  His 
power,  but  it  stops  short  at  the  stars ;  I  believe  in 
His  providing  care,  but  that  was  limited  to  the 
old  Scripture  saints,"  what  can  be  more  dishonour- 
ing to  my  Lord  than  this  ?  The  largest  hopefulness 
of  future  goodness  is  the  only  valid  conclusion 
from  my  experience  of  His  goodness  in  the  past. 
I  will  not  care  much  for  the  roughness  of  the  way 
if  He  gives  me  "Shoes  of  iron  and  brass."  It 
will  not  matter  much  what  the  days  may  bring,  if, 
"  As  my  days,  my  strength  shall  be."  Trials  many 
I  may  have  to  face;  but  only  my  unbelief  can 
make  them  calamities.  All  will  not  be  dark — 
nothing  will  be  dark,  if  from  the  shining  of  His 
face  I  have  the  Light  of  life. 

And  why  should  I  be  anticipating  evils,  instead  of 
blessings,  when  such  a  God  is  mine  ?  Is  life  to  be 
filled  with  mournful  sunsets  only  ?  Are  there  to  be 
no  beautiful  sunrises  too  ?  The  coming  days  stand 
before  me,  like  empty  vessels  waiting  to  be  filled. 
If  I  myself  fill  them  up  with  my  forebodings  and 


282  A  NOBLE  TESTIMONY 

alarms,  what  they  hold  will  be  bitter  enough.  But 
if  I  suffer  God  to  fill  them,  they  will  overflow  with 
the  good  wine  of  His  joy.  And  when,  at  last,  the 
journeyings  are  over,  the  wilderness  is  passed,  and 
the  fights  are  done,  and  my  loving  Master,  in  the 
good  land  beyond,  asks  me  to  look  back  and  say 
whether  on  earth,  while  serving  Him,  I  ever 
lacked  anything  I  did  really  need,  my  thankful 
lips  will  have   only  this  to  answer,    "Nothing." 


XLI 
ICHABOD 

"  Seest  thou  these  great  buildings  ?  there  shall  not  be  left  one  stone 
upon  another,  that  shall  not  be  thrown  down." — Mark  xiii,  2. 

Few  words  ever  fell  from  the  Master's  lips  more 
sadly  pathetic  than  these.  He  had  just  left  the 
temple,  never  to  enter  it  again.  The  crowds  came 
next  day,  as  usual,  expecting  to  hear  Him  once 
more ;  but  He  was  not  there.  His  last  appeals  had 
been  made.  He  would  never  again  speak  to  them 
either  of  their  sins  or  of  His  own  grace.  Their 
house  would  thenceforth,  as  He  said,  be  "  left  unto 
them  desolate."  Desolate  indeed  it  was,  when  He, 
the  glory  of  it,  had  gone  away,  leaving  it  to  its 
doom  ;  and  desolate  utterly  it  has  been  ever  since. 
The  Jews  themselves  have  recorded  that  just  forty 
years  before  the  final  destruction  of  the  city,  the 
temple-lamp  suddenly  and  mysteriously  went  out. 
Fitly  so,  when  the  True  Light  had  been  quenched 
by  rejection  of  its  shining. 

283 


284  ICHABOD 

This  coming  doom,  however,  no  eye  but  His 
could  see.  To  every  other  eye  such  a  doom 
seemed  utterly  incredible.  The  very  disciples  who 
had  just  listened  to  His  sorrowful  and  tearful 
lament,  "  0  Jerusalem,  Jerusalem,  which  killest 
the  prophets,  and  stonest  them  that  are  sent 
unto  thee,  how  often  would  I  have  gathered 
thy  children  together  as  a  hen  gathers  her  brood 
under  her  wings,  and  ye  would  not !  if  thou  hadst 
known,  even  thou,  in  this  thy  day,  the  things 
that  belong  to  thy  peace — but  now  they  are  hid 
from  thine  eyes  "  ;  even  these  disciples  could  not 
take  in  the  idea  of  its  doom.  They  pointed  to  the 
''great  buildings,"  built  to  defy  the  hand  of  time 
itself,  buildings  "adorned  with  goodly  stones  and 
gifts,"  and  said,  "  Is  all  this  magnificence  to  perish 
utterly  ?  Even  if  the  city  be  doomed,  surely  that 
temple  will  be  spared :  it  has  been,  for  ages,  not 
merely  a  splendid,  but  a  sacred  place;  surely 
nothing  will  be  suffered  to  harm  ity  But  to  the 
Lord  Himself  the  mere  magnificence  of  the  temple 
was  nothing.  When  it  ceased  to  be  a  true  temple 
of  true  worship  for  true  hearts,  it  was,  to  Him, 
simply  a  great  ruin.  Already,  to  the  eye  of  the 
Master,  its  glory  was  a  vanished  thing,  and  soon  the 
desolation  of  it  would  be  irreversible  and  complete. 

I  would  like  had  it  been  possible  for  Him  to  tell 
what  glorious  vision  of  the  might-have-heen  it  was 
that  passed  before  His  eye,  but  could  not  pass  His 
lips,  when  He  said  "Oh  if  thou  hadst  known" — 


ICHABOD  285 

and  stopped  ere  the  sentence  was  complete.  Can 
I  venture,  reverently,  to  imagine  it  ?  If  Jerusalem 
had  but  known  her  Saviour,  and  known  her  day  of 
visitation  by  that  Saviour's  grace,  how  different 
might  have  been  the  fate  of  her  and  of  all  her 
children  !  Perhaps  then  the  temple  might  have 
stood  for  ages,  might  have  been  standing  yet,  as 
the  grand  metropolis  of  the  kingdom  of  God  on 
earth.  He,  as  the  Lamb  of  God,  might  still  have 
been  offered  up,  but  without  cruel  hands  being 
dipped  in  His  blood.  He  might  Himself  have 
ascended  the  altar,  as  the  Priest-victim  for  men, 
and  offered  Himself  up  in  fire  from  heaven.  Moses 
and  Elias  might  have  again  appeared  beside  Him, 
proclaiming  the  accomplishment  of  the  purposes  of 
God;  and  Jerusalem,  as  the  scene  of  that  "recon- 
ciliation," might  have  been  enthroned  in  imperish- 
able glory  to  the  end  of  time.  It  is  perhaps  only  a 
baseless  fancy ;  but  if  anything  like  this  was  the 
vision  that  flashed  for  a  moment  before  His  eye,  I 
can  perhaps  understand  better  His  prayer  to  escape 
the  shame  of  the  cross  :  at  least,  I  can  see  what 
pathos  there  must  have  been  in  His  tone  as  He 
said,  "  Of  all  this  magnificence  there  shall  not  be 
left  one  stone  upon  another,  that  shall  not  be 
thrown  down." 

How  constantly  still  does  the  Lord  look  far 
beneath  the  glittering  surface  of  things,  and  write 
*'Ichabod  "  upon  the  pretentiousness  of  a  religion 
that  is  satisfied  with  what  is  outward  only — noble 


286  ICHABOD 

architecture,  stately  ritual,  ravishing  music — but, 
wanting  everything  really  spiritual,  is  only  a  super- 
refined  earthliness  after  all !  It  is  a  ruin,  even 
before  it  is  destroyed. 

It  was  a  most  significant  walk  that  Jesus  took 
through  the  temple  courts  on  the  evening  of  the 
day  when  He  had  been  welcomed  by  the  hosannas 
of  the  crowd.  The  story  is  very  simply  told.  "  He 
entered  into  the  temple,  and  looked  round  upon  all 
things,"  and  then  went  out.  No  word  was  spoken  ; 
He  only  "  looked"  at  all  that  were  there  and  at  all 
that  was  going  on.  But  what  a  keen  look  it  was  !  a 
look  that  missed  nothing,  that  read  the  secrets  of 
every  soul !  How  little  did  priest  or  Levite  suspect 
that  He  was  noting  the  hoUowness  of  all  their 
pretended  religion  and  mentally  pronouncing  it  a 
sham ! 

But  if  that  same  Christ  were  to  go  through  the 
pews  of  many  a  house  of  worship  to-day,  would  He 
not  have  the  same  feelings  there  as  He  had  in 
Jerusalem's  temple  nineteen  centuries  ago  ?  Not 
only  of  many  a  magnificent  cathedral  with  long- 
drawn  aisles  and  intoning  priests,  but  of  many  a 
less  pretentious  church,  where  nothing  but  the 
strictest  orthodoxy  is  preached,  and  where  all  the 
conventionalities  of  decorous  worship  are  scrupu- 
lously observed,  might  He  not  feel  and  say  that  the 
religion  of  the  worshippers  is  not  a  religion  of  the 
spirit,  but  only  of  the  flesh  ? 

This  prediction  of  Jerusalem's  doom  may  there- 


ICHABOD  287 

fore  be  a  salutary  warning  to  all  Churches  still. 
Their  glory  and  their  very  existence  will  pass 
away  if  they  cease  to  be  real  meeting-places 
between  God  and  human  souls,  or  if  Christ,  as  the 
one  Foundation  of  a  sinner's  hope,  is  refused  the 
place  He  desires  to  fill.  No  substitute  for  Christ 
as  the  accepted  Lord  of  the  worshippers  can  save  a 
church  from  perishing  miserably  as  a  useless  and 
God-dishonouring  thing.  Not  wealth  and  costly 
gifts,  not  learning,  not  gorgeousness  of  ritual,  not 
beauty  of  ceremonial,  not  splendour  of  architecture, 
not  sublimity  of  music,  not  even  crowds  of  wor- 
shippers can  save  it  from  becoming,  like  Jerusalem's 
temple,  spiritually  dead,  if  Christ,  in  the  glory  of 
His  redeeming  work,  is  put  into  the  background, 
whatever  may  be  put  in  front. 

When  the  Saracens  invaded  the  lands  where 
apostles  had  laboured  once,  they  found  plenty  of 
magnificent  churches,  with  beautiful  and  stately 
services,  and  all  the  outward  signs  of  a  large  pros- 
perity; but  they  found  no  longer  any  preaching 
of  Christ  and  of  His  Cross  as  the  one  atonement 
for  sin.  In  spnhol,  the  Cross  was  everywhere.  It 
shone  on  the  top  of  gilded  domes ;  it  blazed  upon 
the  altars ;  it  sparkled  on  the  vestments  of  the 
priests ;  but  in  the  lyreacliing,  the  Cross  was 
nowhere.  What  rang  out  from  sacerdotal  lips  was 
salvation  by  the  sacraments,  not  by  Christ ;  access 
to  God  through  a  human  priesthood,  not  through 
Christ ;  acceptance  with  God  by  human  merit,  not 


288  ICHABOD 

by  Christ ;  and  so  the  sword  of  the  destroyer  was 
unsheathed  to  sweep  these  Christless  Churches 
away.  But  no  Church  has  ever  died,  or  can  die, 
where  Christ  Himself,  in  His  peerless  glory,  has 
been  the  joy  of  all  the  worshippers.  Even  the 
meanest  barn,  where  the  presence  of  Christ  is 
felt,  is  a  nobler  temple  than  the  most  gorgeous 
cathedral  without  that  can  be. 

I  cannot  but  remember  another  thing  that  led  to 
the  old  temple's  doom.  Both  at  the  beginning 
and  at  the  end  of  His  ministry  the  Lord  Jesus 
indignantly  rebuked  the  spirit  of  merchandise  that 
had  invaded  the  temple  court,  and  turned  what 
should  have  been  a  "place  of  prayer"  into  a 
"  den  of  thieves."  Is  there  anything  that,  in  this 
day  too,  more  tarnishes  the  honour  of  God's  house 
than  the  worldliness  that  infects  it,  eating  out  its 
spirituality,  defiling  its  purity,  hindering  its  testi- 
mony, and  making  it  the  laughing-stock  of  the 
profane  ?  "When  I  think  of  the  deference  paid  in 
the  churches  to  mere  worldly  rank  and  wealth,  the 
dependence  placed  on  mere  worldly  attractions,  the 
worldly  devices  by  which  funds  are  raised  for  the 
work  of  the  Church, — even  sometimes,  as  I  have 
seen,  by  theatrical  performances  and  fancy-dress 
balls, — I  ask  myself  sadly  what  my  Lord  must  think 
of  this  profaning  of  His  house,  and  how  He  would 
speak  of  such  things  if  He  were  here  with  His 
scourge  of  cords  in  His  hand ;  I  ask  myself  if  such 
churches  are  really  filled  with  His  Spirit  as  they 


ICHABOD  289 

profess  to  be,  really  depending  only  on  Him,  as 
they  profess  to  do,  really  seeking  His  glory  above 
all  else,  as  they  tell  the  world  they  are.  How  can 
He  walk  in  His  temple  if  the  world  is  welcomed  to 
walk  there  too  ?  Oh  that  His  Church  everywhere 
might  be  greatly  purified  by  His  Spirit  of  holiness  ! 
Then  would  that  Spirit  be  upon  it  as  a  Spirit  of 
Power.  If  I  cannot  do  much  to  bring  a  holier  day, 
I  can  at  least  keep  praying  that  the  Lord  would  be 
a  spirit  of  burning  to  consume  all  this  sin,  lest  He 
come  as  an  avenging  fire  to  consume  the  Church 
itself,  in  which  His  glory  is  so  sadly  dimmed. 


20 


XLII 
GETHSEMANE-SLEEP 

"  He  findeth  them  asleep,  and  saith  unto  Peter,  What,  could  ye 
not  watch  with  Me  one  hour  ?  Watch  and  pray,  that  ye  enter  not  into 
temptation:  the  spirit  indeed  is  wilUng,  but  the  flesh  is  weak." — 
Matthew  xxvi.  40,  41. 

"  He  Cometh,  and  findeth  them  sleeping,  and  saith  unto  Peter, 
Simon,  sleepest  thou?  Couldest  not  tJiou  watch  one  hour?" — Mark 
xiv.  37. 

"  Why  sleep  ye  ?  rise  and  pray,  lest  ye  enter  into  temptation." — 
Luke  xxii.  46. 

I  AM  here  on  holy  ground.  I  will  put  off  my  shoes 
in  reverence.  I  am  looking  into  the  Holy  of 
Holies,  where  all  is  mystery.  The  darkness  hides 
my  agonising  Lord ;  but  out  of  the  darkness 
comes  to  me  His  voice,  solemn  yet  marvellously 
gentle,  compassionate  exceedingly  even  in  its 
rebuke.  I  see  here  sin  and  grace  lying  very  close 
together ;  the  disciple's  sin,  the  Master's  grace.  It 
is  an  affecting  revelation  of  the  inherent  weakness 
of  the  best  disciples.  Had  I  been  there  I  would 
probably  have  been  no  better  than  they. 

What  He  wanted  them  to  do  was  no  great  thing, 

•290 


GETHSEMANE-SLEEP  291 

merely  that  when  He  was  withdrawn  from  them  in 
lonely  prayer  for  Himself,  they  should  watch  against 
surprise,  and  pray  for  strength  to  endure  whatever 
might  be  at  hand.  They  were  to  watch  with  Him, 
not  over  Him.  He  had  to  go  through  this  agony, 
as  all  others,  alone.  He  never  at  any  time  asked 
His  disciples  to  pray  for  Him.  He  never  even 
prayed  ivith  them,  though  He  constantly  prayed 
for  them.  He  does  not  now  ask  them  to  inter- 
cede for  Him,  only  to  pray  for  themselves.  All 
life  through  He  was  as  One  apart,  doing  a  work 
in  which  none  could  bear  Him  company.  He 
often  asked  their  faith ;  He  asked  their  love ;  He 
asked  their  si/mpathy ;  but  He  never  asked  their 
prayers.  He  only  showed  them,  by  word  and  by 
example,  how  to  pray. 

How  sad  His  heart  was  under  the  olive-trees 
they  could  not  know ;  but  the  sadness  was 
deepened  when,  coming  back  to  them  for  a 
moment,  He  found  them  so  little  like  Himself  as 
to  be  all  asleep.  A  sin  of  infirmity,  no  doubt ;  but 
what  a  revelation  of  the  infinite  distance  separat- 
ing Him  from  them  !  This  sleep  could  perhaps  be 
explained,  naturally  enough,  by  reaction  of  mind 
after  the  tense  excitement  of  the  day — the  pas- 
sover  and  supper  in  the  upper  room,  the  long 
discourse,  the  wonderful  prayer  they  heard  Him 
offer,  the  hymn  they  had  together  sung,  the  walk 
in  the  darkness  to  the  garden,  and  the  slumberous 
murmurs  of  the  night  wind  in  the  olive-trees ;  and 


292  GETHSEMANE-SLEEP 

yet  it  takes  me  by  surprise.  I  could  have  expected 
something  better  than  this.  The  Master  evidently 
expected  something  better  too.  Even  His  generous 
excuse  for  them  does  not  hide  His  disappointment. 
Even  the  palliation  that  they  were  "  sleeping  for 
sorrow  "  does  not  hide  it  either,  for  there  is  an 
accent  of  surprise  in  His  words,  "  Why  sleep  ye  ?  " 
"  Simon,  sleepest  thou  ?  " 

It  is  strangely  full  of  warning  to  me  that  the 
three  men  who  here  could  not  watch  for  one  hour 
were  the  same  three  who  had  been,  more  closely  than 
any,  associated  with  the  Master  many  times  before  : 
who,  alone  of  the  band,  had  been  with  Him  on  the 
holy  mount,  and  had  seen  His  glory  there ;  who 
alone  had  been  witnesses  of  His  power  in  raising 
the  daughter  of  Jairus  to  life ;  one  of  them,  too, 
the  man  who  had  made  loudest  profession  of 
willingness  to  die  for  Him  ;  another,  the  man  who 
most  profoundly  loved  Him,  and  at  the  supper 
leaned  upon  His  breast.  But  the  secret  of  their 
unwatchfulness  is  clear  enough.  They  had  never 
yet  completely  taken  in  what  He  had  so  often  said 
to  them  about  the  coming  cross.  They  could  not 
even  yet  bring  themselves  to  believe  that  He 
would  really  die — die  so  awfully,  die  so  soon. 
And  they  were  also  completely  ignorant  of  their 
own  weakness.  They  credited  themselves  with  a 
valiant  faith  that  existed  only  in  their  own  imagi- 
nations. They  were  full  of  the  self-security  and 
self-confidence  that  always  precede  a  fall. 


GETHSEMANE-SLEEP  293 

I  see  here,  then,  that  there  are  some  disciples 
from  whom  the  Master  expects  more  than  He  does 
from  others,  and  that  these  are  just  the  disciples 
who  have  had  the  loftiest  privileges,  and  have 
made  the  loudest  profession  of  loyalty  and  love. 
I  see,  too,  that  as  I  am  never  more  likely  to  err 
in  judgment  than  when  I  think  myself  most  wise, 
so  I  am  never  more  ready  to  slip  with  my  feet  than 
when  I  am  saying,  "  J  shall  never  be  moved."  I 
have  had  far  greater  privileges  than  even  Peter 
had.  If  I  am  unwatchful,  and  let  my  Lord's 
interests  be  betrayed,  He  may  with  even  more 
reason  say  to  me,  "  Sleepest  tlioiiV 

I  cannot  always  say,  "  I  sleep,  but  my  heart 
waketh,"  for  often  my  heart  is  drowsier  than  my 
frame.  I  sleep  sometimes  from  self-indulgence, 
not  from  weariness.  I  sleep  because  I  cease  to 
feel  acutely  the  danger  that  may  be  near.  My 
sleep  is  too  often  the  sleep  of  earthly-mindedness, 
in  which  I  have  pleasant  dreams,  but  they  are  all  of 
earthly,  and  not  of  heavenly  things  ;  visions  indeed, 
but  not  visions  of  a  glory  that  excelleth,  only  of 
the  world  that  passeth  away.  When  I  think  of 
my  indolence  in  my  Master's  service,  of  my  indif- 
ference to  His  glory,  of  my  self-indulgence  when 
He  is  calling  for  the  sacrifice  of  self  in  His  behalf, 
I  am  forced  to  feel  that  I  am  not  living  my  life, 
but  sleeping  it  away.  Well  for  me  that  my  Master 
does  not  sleep  when  caring  for  7mj  interests,  as  I  do 
when  entrusted  with  His !    If  my  Lord  were  not 


294  GETHSEMANE-SLEEP 

more  mindful  of  His  promises  to  me  than  I  am  of 
mine  to  Him  I  would  be  undone  for  ever. 

I  see  again  that  Jesus  conquered  His  temptation 
in  the  garden  by  meeting  it  zvith  prayer.  The 
disciples  succumbed  to  their  temptation  because 
they  met  it  without  ^irayer.  In  a  temptation  to 
rebellion  against  the  Father's  will,  the  Lord's  re- 
source was  prayer.  In  a  temptation  to  cowardice, 
that  ought  to  have  been  theirs.  Prayer  would 
have  made  them  conquerors,  as  it  made  Him ; 
and  therefore  when  temptation  of  any  kind,  from 
any  quarter,  in  any  form,  at  any  time,  comes  to 
me,  I  will  listen  to  my  Master's  voice,  "  Why 
sleepest  thou  ?  Else  and  pray."  No  temptation 
to  any  Christ-dishonouring  act  would  ever  over- 
power me  if  it  did  not  find  me  powerless  through 
sleep  of  soul.  If  my  conscience  is  asleep,  if  my 
love  is  asleep,  if  my  godly  fear  is  asleep,  I  fall  an 
easy  prey. 

I  cannot  but  remember,  as  I  read  the  story  of 
the  garden,  that  the  disciples  who  failed  so  utterly 
there  had  just  risen  from  the  first  Communion-table 
in  the  quiet  upper  room.  The  voice  of  the  Master 
there  must  have  been  still  ringing  in  their  ears — 
not  only  His  voice  of  love,  but  also  His  voice  of 
warning — ''  All  ye  shall  be  offended  because  of  Me 
this  night.''  And  yet,  if  I  condemn  them,  let  me 
think  how  often  I  have  risen  from  my  communion- 
fellowship  with  Him  and  almost  immediately  have 
been  overpowered  with  the  sleep  of  unwatchful- 


GETHSEMANE-SLEEP  295 

ness  ;  how  often  I  have  fallen  from  my  high 
estate,  just  after  drinking  in  afresh  the  sweet 
assurances  of  His  love,  and  pledging  myself  afresh 
to  be  true  to  Him.  How  disastrous  such  sleep  has 
always  been  to  me  !  Its  first  effect  was  to  make 
me  an  easy  prey  to  the  new  temptations  that 
assailed  me ;  and  its  next  effect  was  to  make  me 
doubt  the  reality  of  that  communion  with  Christ 
which  at  the  time  I  thought  so  genuine  and  so 
precious  to  my  heart.  For  the  same  tempter  who 
tells  me  one  day  that  I  need  not  be  so  very  sensi- 
tive and  watchful  now,  because  I  am  secure  in  my 
Eedeemer's  love,  will  tell  me  next  day,  after  I  have 
fallen,  that  I  never  belonged  to  Christ  at  all,  and 
that  my  supposed  communion  with  Him  was  all  a 
delusion,  else  I  would  not  have  fallen  again  so 
soon.  A  tempter  first,  he  will  be  an  accuser  next, 
and  will  echo  in  scorn  what  Jesus  said  in  sorrow, 
"  Could  you  not  watch  one  hour  ?  " 

And  now  let  me  consider  that  I  must  do  for  my 
hrethren  what  the  Lord  asked  these  disciples  to  do 
for  Him.  I  must  guard  them  from  danger.  I  must 
give  them  warning  of  the  coming  of  the  foe.  I 
must  also  soothe  them  by  my  kindly  sympathy. 
But  I  cannot  do  this  if  I  am  asleep  myself.  I  am 
to  be  "my  brother's  keeper"  if  I  cannot  be  my 
Lord's.  The  guardianship  of  every  brother's  safety 
is  laid  upon  me  as  a  sacred  charge.  If  I  cannot 
now  serve  my  Master  Himself,  I  can  serve  Him 
in  His  hrethren.    Even  to  go  and  sit  beside  a 


296  GETHSEMANE-SLEEP 

suffering  or  a  tempted  brother,  and  help  him  by 
my  sympathy,  if  I  can  do  no  more,  is  a  sacred 
duty,  and  it  ought  to  be  to  me  a  sacred  joy. 
Sadly  I  have  to  reproach  myself  for  failure  even 
in  this.  My  compassionate  Master  may  excuse  my 
sleep,  but  I  cannot  excuse  myself ;  for  this  privilege 
of  watching  beside  my  brethren  I  often  lose  because 
I  am  too  self-indulgent  to  trouble  myself  to  do  it. 
Let  me  think  more  of  the  joy  that  may  be  mine  if 
faithful — the  joy  of  hearing  the  Great  Master  one 
day  say  to  me,  "  Inasmuch  as  thou  didst  it  to 
one  of  the  least  of  My  brethren,  thou  didst  it 
unto  Me." 


XLIII 
A  TEAITOE'S  KISS 

"  Friend,  wherefore  art  thou  come  ?  " — Matthew  xxvi.  50. 
"Judas,  betrayest  thou  the   Son  of  man  with  a  kiss?" — Lukk 
xxii.  48. 

This  was  Christ's  last  effort  to  win  the  soul  of 
Judas,  and  save  him  from  himself.  The  tone  of 
His  questions  to  the  traitor  was  not  a  tone  of 
indignation  at  the  foul  affront,  so  much  as  a  tone 
of  sadness  over  one  for  whom  He  had  already  done 
so  much,  and  all  in  vain.  For  three  whole  years 
the  gracious  Lord  had  been  striving  with  Satan 
for  the  possession  of  this  poor  soul ;  but  all  to  no 
purpose.  It  would  not  be  won.  Judas  had  long- 
before  come  to  an  understanding  with  the  devil ; 
and  it  was  in  the  upper  room  that  the  final  bargain 
was  struck.  Judas  really  committed  suicide  in 
that  upper  room  ;  though  none  but  Jesus  knew  the 
dark  tragedy  that  was  being  enacted  there.  There 
it  was,  in  that  sacred  place,  that  he  conclusively 
shut  his  heart  against  the  Christ  who  would  have 

297 


298  A  TRAITOR'S  KISS 

saved  him,  and  opened  it  wide  for  the  devil  to 
come  in,  for  it  was  there  that  he  finally  sur- 
rendered his  will  to  the  great  deceiver ;  and 
whosoever  absolutely  determines  upon  a  sin  has 
really  done  it,  whether  he  puts  his  hand  to  it  or 
not.  In  the  lives  of  most  men  there  conies  some 
decisive  moment  when  both  God  and  Satan  seem 
to  be  awaiting  the  choice  to  be  made,  both  of  them 
saying  "that  thou  doest  do  quickly";  and  that 
single  decision,  that  absolute  surrender  of  the  will, 
may  settle  the  soul's  destiny  not  for  time  only,  but 
for  eternity  as  well. 

It  is  affecting  to  recall  how  much  the  Lord  had 
done  to  touch  the  conscience  and  win  the  heart 
of  this  man,  all  in  vain.  Many  of  His  most  pene- 
trating words  must  have  been  meant  specially  for 
Judas;  such  as  His  warnings  against  "  covetous- 
ness,"  His  making  "  the  deceitfulness  of  riches  " 
one  of  the  things  that  choke  the  good  seed,  His 
saying  "  How  hardly  shall  they  that  trust  in  riches 
enter  into  the  Kingdom  of  Grod,"  His  constant  de- 
nunciations of  "hypocrisy,"  His  doom  pronounced 
on  Capernaum,  "  exalted  to  heaven,  cast  down  to 
hell,"  His  pungent  question,  "If  ye  have  been 
unfaithful  in  the  unrighteous  mammon,  who  will 
commit  to  you  the  true  riches  ? "  His  solemn 
forewarning,  "  Woe  unto  that  man  by  whom  the 
Son  of  man  is  betrayed;  good  were  it  for  that 
man  if  he  had  never  been  born."  It  is  difficult  to 
believe  that  Judas  had  not  sometimes  a  twinge  of 


A  TRAITOR'S  KISS  299 

conscience  as  he  listened  to  words  like  these. 
But  he  silenced  their  voice  within  him,  and  steeled 
his  worldl}^  heart,  till  he  "  sold  himself  to  work 
iniquity,"  even  before  he  sold  his  Master. 

It  seems  to  me  a  most  significant  fact  that  Judas 
never  called  Jesus  ^^  Lord  "  as  the  other  disciples 
did.  When  they  said,  ^^ Lord,  is  it  I?"  he  said 
only,  ''Master,  is  it  I  ?  "  or  "  Teacher,  is  it  I?  " 
*'  No  man  calleth  Jesus  Lord  but  by  the  Holy 
Ghost  "  ;  and  Judas  had  banished  the  Holy  Spirit 
from  his  soul.  So,  too,  it  seems  very  significant 
that  when  Jesus  said,  ''Friend,  wherefore  art  thou 
come?"  He  used  a  word  that  had  no  note  of 
affection  in  it.  When  He  said  to  the  rest,  "I 
have  called  you  friends,'"  He  used  a  word  of  real 
affection  ;  and  when  He  said,  "  our  friend  Lazarus 
sleepeth,"  He  used  a  word  which  meant,  "  our 
dear  one  "  ;  but  when  He  spoke  to  Judas  he  used 
quite  another  word,  one  that  meant  only  "com- 
rade," or  "  companion."  Yet  even  that  word, 
recalling  as  it  did  the  close  intimacy  of  past  years, 
might  have  touched  any  heart  that  had  not  passed 
the  possibility  of  softening ;  and  when  the  mournful 
question  followed,  "  Judas,  betrayest  thou  the  Son 
of  man  with  a  Jciss  ?  "  that  was  an  appeal  which 
only  a  thoroughly  hardened  heart  could  possibly 
have  withstood.  I  see  now  what  the  Lord  meant 
by  saying,  "  one  of  you  is  a  devil "  ;  for  none  other 
could  have  done  a  deed  so  vile. 

What  marvellous  long-suffering  and  meekness 


300  A  TRAITOR'S  KISS 

the  ill-treated  Master  showed  in  submitting  to  that 
hiss !  and  submitting  to  it  without  the  least  trace 
of  indignation  at  the  insult !  Any  other  would 
have  turned  away  his  face,  that  it  might  not  be 
polluted  with  such  a  kiss  ;  but  this  Divine  sufferer 
could  meekly  stoop  to  endure  even  so  base  a  thing 
as  that,  and  feel  only  pity  for  the  poor  soul  that 
was  finding  death  upon  His  lips.  The  severest 
thing  He  said  to  the  traitor  was  only  a  reminder 
of  the  long  years  of  grace  he  had  abused,  and  all 
the  saving  love  that  had  been  lavished  on  him, 
only  to  be  trampled  under  foot.  And  yet  how 
solemn  that  expostulation  was  !  To  betray  Him 
after  a  kiss  would  have  been  bad  enough ;  but  to 
betray  Him  by  a  kiss  was  infinitely  worse. 

As  I  listen  to  my  Master's  last  words  to  this 
poor,  infatuated  soul,  many  serious  thoughts  may 
be  awakened  in  my  own  heart.  They  suggest  to 
me  how  often,  even  still,  the  Son  of  man  is 
"  betrayed  with  a  Jciss.^^  When  I  hear  a  rejection 
of  His  true  Divinity  covered  by  warm  acknowledg- 
ments of  the  beauty  of  His  humanity ;  when  I  see 
the  enemies  of  His  Godhead  still  admiring  the  77ian; 
when  I  listen  to  the  deniers  of  His  Divine  glory 
lavishing  encomiums  on  the  graciousness  of  His 
life,  or  speaking  of  the  nobility  of  His  self-sacrifice 
as  a  martyr  for  truth,  while  scorning  the  idea  of 
His  death  being  a  real  atonement  for  sin ;  I  am 
forced  to  call  all  this  by  its  only  right  name,  a 
"betraying  of  the  Son  of  man  with  a  kiss."    For 


A  TRAITOR'S  KISS  301 

many  a  rejector  of  Christ  can  be  wonderfully  com- 
plimentary all  the  time.  The  sword  with  which 
he  fights  against  Him  may  be  adorned  with  gems 
and  inlaid  with  gold ;  but  that  does  not  make  its 
thrust  any  the  less  a  sin.  He  may  be  rejected 
with  the  most  polished  grace  of  phrase,  as  well  as 
with  a  coarse  and  vulgar  sneer,  but  the  rejection 
is  the  same.  It  makes  no  difference  to  the  guilt 
of  a  man,  whether  he  casts  God's  laws  behind  him 
with  a  curse,  or  with  the  most  courteous  apologies 
for  not  obeying  them;  and  men  who  begin  with 
the  coldly  courteous  rejection,  often  end  with  the 
coarsest  blasphemies.  For  all  evil  grows  ;  and  it 
may  sometimes  grow  so  portentously  that  the  heart 
will  come  to  say,  as  Judas  really  did,  ''Evil,  be 
thou  my  good." 

I  see,  too,  here,  how  sins  of  various  kinds  are 
closely  linked  together,  one  drawing  many  others 
after  it.  It  is  possible  to  speak  of  a  man  as  "  a 
man  of  one  book,"  or  "  a  man  of  one  ambition  "  ; 
but  no  one  can  be  called  "  a  man  of  one  sin."  If 
he  has  one,  he  has  more.  The  verdict  of  the 
unseeing  world  upon  a  man  who  has  "gone 
wrong "  sometimes  is  "  that  is  his  one  fault," 
"that  is  his  one  bad  habit."  It  is  never  so.  If 
he  has  one  bad  habit  open  enough  to  meet  the  eye 
he  is  sure  to  have  many  others  that  lie  out  of 
sight.  I  never  yet  came  upon  a  piece  of  waste 
ground  that  had  only  one  weed  growing  on  it.  If 
there  are  weeds  at  all,  I  am  sure  to  find  them  of 


302  A  TRAITOR'S  KISS 

many  sorts,  though  some  of  the  smaller  may  be 
hidden  by  those  of  larger  growth.  So  I  see  that 
the  covetousness  of  Judas  was  linked  to  worldly 
ambition;  that  worldly  ambition  was  linked  to 
deep  hypocrisy ;  that  hypocrisy  led  on  to  revengeful 
hate;  that  revenge  led  on  to  treason;  and  that 
treason  led  to  suicide  at  the  end.  Let  me  beware 
of  the  small  sins  that  lead  on  to  greater  ones,  of 
the  secret  sins  that  lead  to  o;pen  ones,  of  the  heart- 
defilement  which  will  soon  be  life-defilemeyit  too. 

One  other  thought  arises  now.  Supposing  that 
this  last  attempt  of  the  Lord's  to  win  Judas  had 
succeeded,  and  the  betrayer,  stricken  with  remorse, 
had  fallen  at  his  Master's  feet  and  sought  forgive- 
ness even  at  that  eleventh  hour,  would  not  He 
who  pardoned  the  thief  of  the  cross  have  pardoned 
the  thief  of  the  garden,  too  ?  Would  not  G-eth- 
semane  have  had  its  miracle  of  grace  as  well  as 
Calvary  ?  Had  sinning  Judas  wept  like  sinning 
Peter,  he  need  not  have  gone  away  and  hanged 
himself  in  dark  despair,  for  the  very  Christ  he  so 
sinned  against  would  have  shown  that  He  could 
''abundantly  pardon"  the  very  worst,  and  save 
even  one  who  was  but  a  few  yards  from  the  mouth 
of  hell.  But  what  awful  memories  that  poor  lost 
soul  must  have  carried  with  it  into  the  eternal 
world  !  memories  not  only  of  all  that  it  had  done 
against  the  Lord,  but  of  all  that  the  Lord  had 
done  to  save  it,  and  done  in  vain  !  It  is  hard  to 
say  which  will  be  the  bitterest  thought  to  the  lost 


A  TRAITOR'S  KISS  303 

beyond  the  grave — the  threatenings  that  have  been 
fulfilled,  or  the  promises  that  might  have  been 
fulfilled,  if  only  they  had  listened  to  love's  pleading 
voice.  For,  every  one  who  is  shut  out  of  heaven 
is  shut  out  by  his  own  act  alone,  and  will  stand 
outside  the  gate,  not  only  self- destroy ed^  but  self- 
condemned;  and  no  more  bitter  thought  will  any 
man  have  then  than  this,  **  through  all  my  life 
below,  my  God  was  seeking  to  draw  me  to  heaven, 
throwing  round  me  the  cords  of  a  most  wonderful 
and  patient  love ;  and  yet  I  broke  these  cords  one 
by  one  and  cast  them  all  away,  and  up  to  the  very 
last  was  resisting,  not  the  anger,  not  the  rebukes, 
but  the  mercifulness,  the  grace,  the  love  of  Him 
who  can  now  say  only  this,  I  loould  have  healed 
thee  and  thou  loouldst  not  be  healed.^' 


XLIV 
HIMSELF   HE   WOULD   NOT    SAVE 

"  Thinkest  thou  that  I  cannot  now  pray  to  My  Father,  and  He 
shall  presently  give  Me  more  than  twelve  legions  of  angels  ?  But  how 
then  shall  the  Scriptures  be  fulfilled,  that  thus  it  must  be?  " — 
Matthew  xxvi.  53,  54. 

Most  wonderfully  here  does  the  Lord's  complete 
submission  and  self-control  stand  out  against  the 
impulsiveness  of  His  rash,  though  loving,  disciple. 
Peter  condensed  into  one  furious  blow  the  im- 
patience that  had  long  been  manifested  in  reckless 
words.  His  Master,  though  knowing  that  the 
infinite  resources  of  heaven  were  at  His  call, 
would  not  avail  Himself  of  them  even  in  that  hour 
of  bitterest  humiliation.  The  traitor's  kiss  had 
been  given.  The  Divine  Lord  was  at  last  seized 
by  sinful  hands  and  bound.  Yet,  even  then,  He 
would  not  use  His  Divine  power  to  free  Himself 
from  the  cords  that  He  might  heal  the  severed  ear. 
He  only  turned  to  the  soldiers  and  said,  "  Suffer  ye 

304 


HIMSELF  HE  WOULD  NOT  SAVE       305 

thus  far  "  ;  "  let  My  hand  be  for  one  moment  free, 
that  I  may  do  one  more  act  of  mercy  yet." 

Peter  knew  nothing  of  his  Master's  infinite 
resources.  That  keen  but  dehcate  spiritual  vision 
which  can  enable  its  possessor  to  "endure  as  see- 
ing Him  who  is  invisible,"  was  wanting  altogether 
to  Peter  yet;  and  he  had  not  yet,  for  all  the 
Master's  iteration  of  it,  understood  the  truth  that 
'*  the  Son  of  man  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto, 
but  to  minister,  and  to  give  His  life  a  ransom  for 
many."  But  the  Master  Himself  had  been  living 
in  the  invisible  all  along ;  and  even  in  this  dark 
hour  He  felt  how  near  Him  God's  invisible  host  of 
angels  was.  *'  More  than  twelve  legions  of  angels," 
He  said,  "  would  appear  immediately  at  My  call, 
one  defending  legion  for  each  of  you  eleven,  and 
one  for  Me;  and  other  attacking  legions  for 
smiting  down  the  foe.  Both  you  and  I  would  be 
surrounded  by  a  force  against  which  all  earthly 
forces  would  break  in  absolute  dismay.  I  have  but 
to  pray  My  Father,  and  this  dark  garden  of 
Gethsemane  would  be  as  full  of  shining  ones  as 
the  streets  of  the  New  Jerusalem  itself." 

I  read  this  story  and  a  new  feeling  comes  to  me 
of  the  wonder  of  that  self-abjuring  love  that  took 
my  Eedeemer  willingly  to  the  cross.  I  see  the 
deep  meaning  of  His  words,  *'  No  man  taketh  My 
life  from  Me,  but  I  lay  it  down  of  Myself."  The 
cross  of  Calvary,  not  a  flaming  escort  of  angels,  was 
the  way  home  which  the  Father  had  appointed  for 

21 


306        HIMSELF  HE  WOULD  NOT  SAVE 

Him ;  and  tread  that  dolorous  way  He  would.  A 
single  prayer  would  have  saved  Him  from  the 
shame,  but  He  had  said  before,  "He  that  loveth 
his  life  shall  lose  it ;  "  and  so  that  prayer  He  would 
not  suffer  to  pass  His  lips.  It  was  not  even  in  His 
heart.  The  task  which  He  had  accepted  in  His 
glory,  and  for  which  He  had  left  the  glory,  was  to 
conquer  sin  by  calmly  submitting  to  bear  the 
penalty  of  sin.  He  never  was,  and  could  not  be, 
the  "  victim  of  circumstances."  At  any  moment 
He  could  have  proved  that  He  was  above  all 
circumstances  and  all  the  powers  of  evil.  But 
that  would  have  defeated  His  purpose ;  and  there- 
fore not  one  hair's-breadth  would  He  go  out  of  the 
road  appointed  by  the  Father's  will  with  His  own 
consent.  A  mere  martyr,  overpowered  by  circum- 
stances. He  could  not  be.  In  its  willinghood  of 
self-surrender  lay  all  the  virtue  of  His  life.  In  the 
glimpse  He  gives  me  here  of  the  angelic  hosts  that 
could  have  freed  Him  in  a  moment  from  pain,  and 
shame,  and  death,  I  see  how  absolutely  perfect 
His  self-renunciation  was. 

In  any  crisis  of  my  life,  too,  I  can  pray  the 
Father ;  but  there  are  many  times  when  I  will  not 
ask  release  from  suffering,  but  only  power  to  suffer 
uncomplainingly  and  trustfully  as  well.  My  Lord 
Himself  once  said — I  would  seek  grace  to  say  it 
after  Him — "  Now  is  My  soul  troubled,  and  what 
shall  I  say?  Father,  save  me  from  this  hour? 
(No,  I  will  not  say  that,  but,)  Father,  glorify  Thy 


HIMSELF  HE  WOULD  NOT  SAVE        307 

Name."  It  may  be  that,  in  like  circumstances,  to 
me  also  there  may  come  a  voice  from  heaven  say- 
ing, "  I  have  both  glorified  it,  and  I  will  glorify  it 
again." 

My  Lord  did  not  pray  for  release  from  pain  ;  but 
He  did  pray.  Even  then  He  was  gaining  strength 
through  prayer.  And  He  did  not  say  to  Peter,  "  I 
can  pray  to  God."  That  would  have  been  more 
like  one  who  was  thinking  only  of  a  mighty 
Potentate  in  heaven.  He  said,  "  I  can  pray  to  My 
Father  " ;  for  that  had  in  it  the  element  of  perfect 
trustfulness  and  rest.  To  say  in  my  troubles, 
*'  this  is  the  will  of  God"  is  true,  but  cold.  To 
say,  "this  is  rtiy  Father's  will"  lets  me  feel  the 
warm  embrace  of  a  Father's  arms,  and  see  a  smile 
upon  a  Father's  face. 

Let  this  be  my  grand  resource  in  difficulty  of 
every  kind ;  for,  though  my  Master's  life  lay  upon 
a  plane  infinitely  higher  than  mine,  that  is  no 
reason  why  my  feelings  should  not  be  parallel  with 
HiSj  however  far  below.  Persecuted,  I  can  pray. 
Misconstrued  and  slandered,  I  can  pray.  In 
danger  I  can  pray.  In  the  death  chamber  I  can 
pray.  By  the  grave  of  my  loved  ones  I  can  pray. 
I  can  never  be  anywhere  that  prayer  will  not 
sustain  me,  if  it  does  not  extricate  me.  Indeed,  I 
will  not  ask  extrication ;  I  will  only  ask  submissive 
trust. 

There  may  be  more  than  one  G-ethsemane  in  my 
life ;  how  shall  I  meet  them  ?    I  cannot  ask  or 


308        HIMSELF  HE  WOULD  NOT  SAVE 

expect  deliverance  by  supernatural  means ;  no  host 
of  angels  will  come  at  my  command.  I  might 
gain  deliverance  if  I  simply  gave  up  the  conflict 
in  despair ;  but  that  would  not  be  victory,  it  would 
be  only  everlasting  loss.  I  will  take  rather  my 
Master's  way.  I  will  ^ray  myself  into  peace;  and 
then  the  victory  will  be  sure. 

Now  let  me  think  of  the  reason  given  by  my 
Lord  for  not  offering  that  prayer,  "  How,  then,  shall 
the  Scriptures  be  fulfilled  that  thus  it  must  be?  " 
What  profound  obedience  to  the  Word  of  the 
Father  as  well  as  to  the  will  of  the  Father  was 
there !  It  was  written  in  the  Scriptures,  "  Awake, 
0  sword,  against  my  Shepherd,  against  the  man 
that  is  my  Fellow,  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts ;  smite 
the  Shepherd,  and  the  sheep  of  the  flock  shall 
be  scattered  abroad."  The  fulfilment  of  that 
Scripture  fell  due  that  night  in  the  garden,  and 
the  Shepherd  was  ready  to  be  smitten  to  death, 
rather  than  that  the  word  of  the  Father  should 
be  falsified.  "  To  redeem  the  world  by  dying  for 
it,"  He  said,  "is  the  way  appointed  for  Me;  who 
else  can  redeem  it  if  I  draw  back  ?  "  Peter  little 
thought  when  he  drew  his  sword  to  prevent  his 
Master  suffering,  that  he  was  fighting  to  prevent 
the  redemption  of  the  world !  Well,  if  I  fight 
foolishly  to  prevent  my  own  sufferings,  I  may, 
perhaps,  unconsciously,  be  hindering  the  coming  of 
untold  blessings  to  myself,  and  to  others  besides. 

Let  it  draw  me  more  to  the  Scriptures  which 


HIMSELF  HE  WOULD  NOT  SAVE       309 

Christ  so  thoroughly  understood,  so  greatly 
honoured,  so  passionately  loved,  to  see  how,  all  His 
life  through,  they  were  His  inspiration  to  duty,  His 
comfort  in  sadness.  His  encouragement  in  trial. 
No  one  ever  needed  the  Scriptures  less  ;  but  no  one 
ever  prized  them  more.  They  were  the  very  food 
of  His  soul ;  they  were  also  the  weapon  by  which 
He  ''  overcame  the  wicked  one."  In  the  Scriptures 
He  found  a  picture  of  Himself,  and  He  set  Himself 
to  the  work  of  fulfilling  that  picture,  and  presenting 
it  in  His  own  living  form  to  men.  All  that  the 
Scripture  declared  He  would  be,  He  was ;  all  that 
the  Scripture  said  He  would  do  for  the  Father, 
He  did ;  just  as  all  that  the  Scripture  said  the 
Father  would  do  for  Him,  the  Father  did.  His 
whole  life  was  one  long  dependence  on  the 
Father's  words — His  commanding  words  and  His 
promising  words  alike.  The  very  words  of  the 
Book  were  dear  to  His  heart.  By  the  very 
words  of  it  He  confjuered  the  Tempter  thrice. 
By  the  words  of  the  Book  He  confuted  His 
foes.  He  showed  them  their  ignorance  of  the 
Book,  and  made  them  see  truths  lying  in  it 
that  they  had  never  seen  before.  In  the  very 
words  of  this  Book  He  poured  out  His  cry  of 
forsakenness  upon  the  cross.  In  the  very  words 
of  it  He  commended  His  soul  into  His  Father's 
hands. 

Let  me,  too,  live  upon  the  Scriptures ;  they  will  be 
my  most  nourishing  food.     Let  me,  too,  find  in  the 


310       HIMSELF  HE  WOULD  NOT  SAVE 

Scriptures  a  picture  of  myself,  of  what  I  am  by 
nature,  of  what  I  am  by  grace,  of  what  I  ought  to 
be  as  a  redeemed  child  of  God;  and  a  picture 
of  all  that  I  must  willingly  endure  in  order  to  be 
"  perfected  "  as  my  Master  was.  Then  I  will  not 
murmur  at  the  discipline  I  must  pass  through. 
When  trials  come,  and  sorrows  darken  down,  I 
will  remember  how  it  is  writteji  that  *'  through 
much  tribulation  I  must  enter  the  kingdom  "  ; 
and  over  against  my  sometimes  weary  longings 
for  speedy  relief,  I  will  lay  these  words  of  my 
patient  Master,  "  But  how,  then,  shall  the  Scrip- 
tures be  fulfilled  that  thus  it  must  be  ?  " 


XLY 
THE  VICTORY  OF  FAITH 

"  The  cup  which  My  Father  hath  given  Me,  shall  I  not  drink  it  ?  " 
— John  xviii.  11. 

To  how  many  thousands  of  suffering  hearts  has  this 
question  of  the  suffering  Master's  come  as  heavenly 
balm  !  If  He,  the  sinless  One,  could  say  that,  and 
with  reference  to  such  awful  soul-agony  as  His, 
how  much  more  may  I  say  it,  when  any  less 
affliction  comes  to  me !  There  was  here  not  so 
much  a  cry  of  pain  as  a  shout  of  victory.  Grad- 
ually, as  the  fierce  struggle  went  on,  the  Lord 
was  gainiiig  strength,  not  losing  it.  His  first  feel- 
ing was  not  so  calm,  or  so  victorious  as  His  last. 
At  first  He  had  been  able  only  to  say,  "  Father,  if 
it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from  Me."  Soon, 
however,  having  got  from  the  Father  some  intima- 
tion that  it  was  7iot  possible,  He  changed  that 
prayer  for  a  higher  one,  "  If  this  cup  may  not  pass 
except  I  drink  it,  Thy  will  be  done  " ;  till  finally 

311 


312  THE  VICTORY  OF  FAITH 

He  could  rise  higher  still,  "  The  cup  which  My 
Father  giveth  Me,  shall  I  not  drink  it  ?  "  First, 
it  looked  only  a  cup  from  the  cruel  hands  of  men, 
but  soon  a  cup  given  Him  by  the  hand  of  the 
Father.  There  was  first,  the  "  strong  crying  and 
tears  to  Him  that  was  able  to  save  Him  from 
death";  then  the  "learning  of  obedience  by  the 
things  which  He  suffered";  and  then  the  victory 
and  perfect  peace. 

Shall  I  ever,  on  this  side  heaven,  be  able  to 
fathom  the  mystery  of  this  great  Gethsemane 
struggle  ?  or  the  mystery  of  the  help  that  came  to 
Him,  when  "there  appeared  an  angel  from  heaven 
strengthening  Him " ?  "  Strengthening,'' '  but  how ? 
What  could  any  angel  do,  or  say,  to  Him  who 
was  the  Lord  of  all  angels  still  ?  Only  one  thing 
is  completely  clear,  that  His  victory  was  the 
victory  of  faith,  and  was  gained  by  agonizing 
jjrayer.  But  if  so,  what  potent  weapons  these 
must  be,  that  could  make  even  Christ  stronger  than 
He  was  !  What  momentous  necessities  for  my 
own  Christian  life  must  these  be,  that  even  Christ 
could  not  do  without ! 

The  dominant  note  of  this  prayer  for  Himself 
was  "  Father,"  the  same  that  sounds  so  clearly  in 
the  model  prayer  He  taught  His  disciples  to  use. 
So,  then,  the  God  that,  in  Gethsemane,  was  smiting 
the  faithful  shepherd  and  not  the  guilty  sheep, 
was  a  "Father"  still;  and  this  prayer,  like  the 
other,  I  can  use  when  an}-  darkness  falls  over  me, 


THE  VICTORY  OF  FAITH  313 

which  I  cannot  pierce.  Any  suffering  that  comes 
to  me  must  be  entirely  different  from  His  sufferings 
in  this  respect,  that  mine  are  all  deserved,  for  I  am 
a  sinner.  My  cup  must  often  be  a  cup  of  real 
chastisement,  as  Christ's  was  not ;  and  yet,  even 
so,  I  can  accept  and  drink  it  uncomplainingly, 
since  it  is  brought  to  me  by  a  "Father's" 
hand. 

I  may  not  be  able  to  connect  my  suffering  with 
any  particular  sin  for  which  it  is  a  chastisement, 
(though  sometimes  I  can),  but  a  real  trust  in  my 
Father  is  quite  independent  of  my  ability  to  see 
any  reason  for  His  dealings  with  me.  I  trust 
Him,  not  because  I  know  His  meaning,  but 
because  I  know  Himself.  I  may  say  of  some  men 
that  I  know  them  too  well  to  trust  them  ;  but  God 
is  always  trusted  in  proportion  as  He  is  known. 
Those  who  have  known  Him  longest  trust  Him 
most.  "  Do  you  see  any  special  reason  for  this 
sore  trial  ?  "  was  the  question  once  put  to  a  very 
afflicted  man;  and  the  answer  came  immediately, 
"  No,  but  I  am  as  well  satisfied  as  if  I  saw  a 
thousand;  for  my  Father's  will  is  the  perfection 
of  reasons."  The  one  thought,  "  It  is  my  Father 
who  is  giving  me  this  cup  to  drink,"  stills  every 
murmur  in  heart  or  lip.  As  I  take  it  from  His 
hands,  I  can  hear  Him  say,  "  What  I  do  thou 
knowest  not  now,  but  thou  shalt  know  hereafter"  ; 
and  that  "hereafter"  may  be  not  only  the  here- 
after of  eternity,  but  a  hereafter  in  time.     My  own 


314  THE  VICTORY  OF  FAITH 

future  life  on  earth  may  explain  the  present  pain, 
when  I  find  how  rich  a  blessing  the  cup  has 
brought.  "  Afterward,  it  yieldeth  the  peaceable 
fruit  of  righteousness  "  ;  but  God's  '*  afterward  "  is 
not  necessarily  the  afterward  of  heaven ;  it  may  be 
an  afterward  on  earth,  long  before  heaven  comes. 

Samson's  friends  quarrelled  with  him  because 
they  could  not  understand  his  riddle,  ''  Out  of  the 
eater  comes  forth  meat."  Many  of  God's  friends 
are  apt  to  quarrel  with  Him  for  the  same  reason. 
But  the  explanation  of  the  riddle  will  not  be  long 
deferred,  if  faith  accejpts  the  sorrow  which  it  does 
not  comprehend.  *'I  have  heard  of  the  patience 
of  Job,  and  have  seen  the  end  of  the  Lord"  in 
afflicting  Imn.  It  was  a  very  bitter  cup  he  was 
made  to  drink,  and  the  reason  for  having  to  drink 
it  he  could  not  understand.  He  said,  "  I  was  not 
in  safety,  neither  had  I  rest,  neither  was  I  quiet, 
yet  trouble  came."  It  was  as  much  as  to  say, 
*'  If  I  had  been  flattering  myself  that  no  evil  could 
touch  me,  it  would  not  have  surprised  me  that  such 
calamities  should  come  to  rebuke  my  pride;  if  I 
had  been  '  settled  on  my  lees,'  it  would  not  have 
seemed  strange  that  I  should  be  'emptied  from 
vessel  to  vessel ' ;  if  I  had  been  saying  '  Soul,  thou 
hast  much  goods  laid  up  for  thee  for  many  years, 
take  thine  ease,'  it  would  not  have  been  wonderful 
that  God  should  show  me  my  folly  by  blows  like 
these  ;  but  I  was  not  secure,  and  proud  of  my  se- 
curity, and ^jet  trouble  came."    It  was  all  a  mystery 


THE  VICTORY  OF  FAITH  315 

to  him.  ''Why  should  God  thus  set  me  as  a  mark 
for  all  His  arrows  ?  Why  should  all  these  sorrows 
meet  on  me?"  And  yet,  in  that  darkest  hour, 
surveying  his  desolated  home,  and  not  knowing 
but  farther  suffering  might  be  near,  his  faith  could 
say,  ''  Let  God  send  me  even  bitterer  griefs,  I  will 
not  complain  ;  though  He  slay  me  outright ,  I  will 
trust  in  Him."  That  was  his  willingness  to  drink 
the  cup  which  a  Father  gave  him ;  and  soon  he 
saw  "the  end  of  the  Lord,"  for  "the  Lord  gave 
Job  twice  as  much  as  he  had  before." 

I  will  take  any  cup  of  bitterness  that  is  prepared 
by  my  Father's  hand,  not  only  because  it  is  my 
Father's  will  that  I  should  drink  it,  but  because  I 
know  what  it  will  bring  me  "afterwards."  Eliphaz 
the  Temanite  was  right,  "  Happy  is  the  man  whom 
God  correct eth.'^  All  God's  chastenings  are  meant 
to  be  corrections ;  meant  to  put  things  right  within 
me,  to  cure,  to  heal.  Even  God  Himself  cannot 
put  into  me  the  fulness  of  His  blessing,  till  He  has 
first  emptied  my  heart  to  receive  it ;  and  sometimes 
He  cannot  empty  the  heart  till  He  has  first  emptied 
the  life.  But  He  will  kill  nothing  in  me  that  is 
not  better  dead.  He  will  make  no  wounds  except 
such  as  are  sure  to  lead  to  stronger  health.  It  is 
in  this  way  that  "  He  healeth  my  diseases,  and 
doth  my  soul  redeem." 

Every  heart  has  "  its  own  plague  "  ;  every  soul 
has  its  own  "  disease  "  :  and  the  Great  Physician 
mingles  the  ingredients  of  every  cup  in  exactest 


316  THE  VICTORY  OF  FAITH 

adaptation  to  each  patient's  need;  whether  it  be 
that  pride  is  uplifting  the  soul,  or  vanity  inflating 
it,  or  covetousness  weakening  it,  or  some  vice 
enslaving  it,  or  worldliness  filling  it.  I  may  well 
let  Him  take  His  own  way  of  removing  these 
things  that  both  hinder  my  usefulness  and  destroy 
my  peace.  When  the  cup  is  put  into  my  hands,  I 
may  well  ask  myself,  "Is  there  some  sin  in  me, 
undiscovered  yet,  which  my  Father  means  thus  to 
cure  ?  Are  there  some  desires  of  the  flesh  or  of  the 
mind  remaining  still  unsanctified,  which  this  bitter 
medicine  is  meant  to  heal  ?  I  would  fain  be  healed 
at  any  cost ;  and  if  this  is  the  way  in  which  healing 
is  to  come,  I  will  bless  the  hand  that  puts  the  cup 
to  my  lips." 

Would  any  man  seriously  complain,  if,  after  a 
storm  has  destroyed  his  crops,  he  should  go  forth 
into  his  field  to  see  the  devastation,  and  find  that 
what  he  thought  a  storm  of  hail  was  really  a 
shower  of  precious  stones,  and  pearls,  and  gold, 
leaving  him  a  richer  man  by  far  than  he  ever 
expected  to  be?  But  this  is  what  my  Lord's 
chastenings  often  are.  They  leave  behind  them  a 
richer  blessing  than  they  took  away.  I  may  often 
lose  deep  joys  by  being  afraid  of  deep  sorrows. 

Let  me  learn  from  my  sinless  Master,  how  to 
accept  the  bitter  cup,  which,  if  in  any  sense,  and 
for  any  end,  needed  hy  Him,  is  a  thousand  times 
more  needed  hy  me.  Let  me  echo  the  words  of 
one   who   suffered   much:    *'W"hen    the    flail    of 


THE  VICTORY  OF  FAITH  317 

affliction  smites  me,  I  would  not  be  as  the  chaff 
that  flies  in  the  smiter's  face,  but  as  the  corn  that 
lies  at  his  feet." 


"Pain's  furnace-heat  within  me  quivers; 
God's  breath  upon  the  flame  doth  blow: 
And  all  my  heart  in  anguish  shivers, 
And  trembles  at  the  fiery  glow ; 
And  yet  I  whisper  '  As  God  will, 
And  in  His  hottest  fire  am  still. 

Why  should  I  murmur  ?  for  the  sorrow 
Thus  only  longer-lived  would  be; 
Its  end  will  come  ;    and  may  to-morrow, 
"When  God  has  done  His  work  in  me. 
So  I  say  trusting,  '  As  God  will,' 
And,  trusting  to  the  end,  am  still." 


XL  VI 
TEAKS  WIPED  AWAY 

"  Woman,  why  weepest  thou  ?  whom  seekest  thou  ?  " — John  xx.  15. 

Maky  Magdalene  was  the  first  of  all  the  disciples 
to  visit  the  tomb  where  her  loved  Master  had  been 
laid.  None  loved  Him  more  ;  none  could  less  bear 
the  thought  that  she  should  not  see  Him  again. 
She  stood  outside,  in  the  dark  before  the  dawn,  and 
wept.  She  tve;pt  because  the  grave  was  empty,  but 
she  soon  learned  to  rejoice  because  it  was  empty, 
for  her  Lord  was  standing  at  her  side,  "risen,  as 
He  had  said." 

Meanwhile  that  tomb  was  not  quite  so  empty  as 
she  thought.  Two  angels  were  there,  where  the 
body  of  their  Lord  had  lain — two  of  that  unseen 
band  of  heavenly  witnesses  that  were  always  close 
beside  Him,  but  showed  themselves  for  a  moment 
or  two,  only  at  each  great  crisis  in  His  life — at 
His  birth,  at  His  temptation,  at  His  wrestling  in 
Gethsemane,  at  His  resurrection  from  the  grave, 

318 


TEARS  WIPED  AWAY  319 

and  at  His  ascension  into  glory.  But  she  hardly 
thought  of  them,  though  she  conversed  with  them 
as  naturally  as  if  a  talk  with  angels  had  been  one 
of  the  commonest  occurrences  in  her  life.  She 
hardly  thought  of  them,  or  why  they  should  be 
there.  Her  whole  heart  was  busy  about  one  thing 
only — the  finding  of  her  Lord  ;  and  that  one 
absorbing  purpose  blinded  her  to  everything  that 
otherwise  would  have  seemed  unusual.  But  that 
Lord  was  nearer  than  she  knew,  and  His  question 
as  the  Eisen  One,  though  exactly  the  same  in 
words  as  the  question  of  the  angels  had  been,  was 
far  more  tender  in  tone  :  "  Woman,  why  weepest 
thou  ?  whom  seekest  thou  ?  " 

These  are  the  first  recorded  words  of  Jesus  to 
any  disciple  after  He  had  risen  from  the  tomb ;  and 
they  suggest  to  me  the  infinite  tenderness  of  His 
compassionate  heart.  If  it  seems  strange  that 
Mary  did  not  at  once  recognise  her  Lord,  but 
''  supposed  Him  to  be  the  gardener"  of  the  place, 
I  must  remember  that  it  was  still  only  the  grey 
dawn,  in  which  everything  is  indistinct,  and  that  it 
was  not  the  old  form  or  the  old  features  or  the  old 
expression  of  her  Master  that  she  saw.  They  were 
the  form  and  the  face  of  the  '■^glorified  Jesus,'"  not 
those  that  had  belonged  to  His  humiliation  life, 
and  which  she  had  so  often  studied  closely,  and 
remembered  well.  The  face  that  had  been  deeply 
marked  with  lines  of  suffering,  the  face  that  of 
itself  proclaimed  Him  to  be  a  man  "acquainted 


320  TEARS  WIPED  AWAY 

with  grief,"  the  prematurely-aged  face  that  made 
the  Jews  mistake  Him  for  a  man  about  fifty  years 
of  age — that  face,  and  all  else  pertaining  to  His 
low  estate,  He  had  now  left  behind  Him  for  ever. 
When  He  rose  from  the  dead  all  trace  of  the  long 
curse  He  had  been  bearing  as  He  was  "taking 
away  the  sin  of  the  world"  had  vanished  utterly; 
and  though  there  was  still  enough  to  prove  Him 
to  be  "  that  same  Jesus,"  there  was  so  great  a 
difference,  too,  that  many  who  had  known  Him 
once,  failed  to  recognise  Him  afterwards.  The  two 
disciples  on  the  Emmaus  road  thought  Him  only 
some  passing  "stranger";  and  when  above  five 
hundred  brethren  met  Him  by  appointment  on  a 
mountain  in  Galilee,  most  of  them  "worshipped," 
but  "  some  doubted.''  No  wonder,  therefore,  that 
even  Mary  did  not  immediately  recognise  Him  in 
the  garden.  Even  His  question  did  not  reveal 
Him.  "  Supposing  Him  to  be  the  gardener,"  she 
seemed  to  think,  "  here  is  another  asking  me  that 
same  question,  '  Why  weepest  thou  ? '  How  do 
they  all  not  know  that  I  cannot  but  weep  when 
my  loss  has  been  so  great  ? "  It  needed  the 
Master's  "  calling  her  by  name  "  to  make  her  sure 
that  it  was  really  He.  But  there  was  a  very  deep 
sympathy  on  His  side,  meeting  that  deep  love 
on  hers  ;  and  I  see  this,  in  the  fact  that  His  first 
greeting  in  His  risen  life  should  have  been  to  her 
rather  than  to  any  else. 

Indeed,  the  order  in  which  He  manifested  Him- 


TEARS  WIPED  AWAY  321 

self  to  the  different  disciples  is  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  illustrations  of  His  tender  thoughtfulness 
to   be  met  with   anywhere.      Keasoning    on   the 
matter  beforehand,  I  should  certainly  have  con- 
cluded that   His  specially  commissioned  apostles 
would  have  been  the  first  to  be  greeted  by  the 
Eisen  Lord.     But  it  was  not  so.     Not  to  them, 
nor  to  any  of  their  sex,  did  He  first  appear.     It 
was   to   a  woman,   the   weeping   Mary,  who  was 
probably  the  most  broken-hearted  of  all  the  little 
band.     Well,  surely  He  will  appear  to  the  apostles 
next  ?     No ;   not  yet — only  to  one  of  them,  and 
that  one,  not  John  who  loved  Him  most,  and  alone 
had  the  courage  to  stand  beside  Him  at  the  cross, 
but  Peter,  the  disciple  that  had  grieved  Him  most, 
who  had  denied  Him   shamefully,  but  who  had 
been  weeping  hot  tears  of  penitence  ever  since. 
Now,  then,  surely  the  turn  of  the  rest  will  come  ? 
No ;  there  are  other  bruised  hearts  that  must  get 
healing  first — two  sad  and  weary  men  that  were 
going  away  home  like  stricken  deer  to  die  alone, 
saying,  "We  trusted  it  had  been  He  who  should 
have  redeemed  Israel."     The  other  disciples  had 
some  comfort  from  the  angels'  words ;  these  had 
none  ;   and  not  till  these  most  disconsolate  ones 
had  been  made  to  sing  for  joy,  did  He  turn  to  the 
ten  who  were   gathered  trembling  in  the   upper 
room,  and  show  Himself  to  them  as  the  Living 
One  who  had  conquered  death.     It  was  all  so  like 
Himself  to  go  first  with  eager  love  to  the  souls 

22 


322  TEARS  WIPED  AWAY 

that  needed  Him  most.  I  see,  therefore,  that  the 
more  sorely  I  need  Him,  the  sooner  He  will  come 
to  me.  "  He  will  not  break  the  bruised  reed,"  and 
He  will  not  let  any  other  hand  break  it  either.  If 
I  am  lying  bruised  and  wholly  unable  to  bring  my 
own  strength  back.  He  will  gently  lift  me  and 
tenderly  nourish  me  till  I  am  strong  once  more ; 
and  the  poor  reed  that  He  has  saved  from  breaking 
will  then  once  more,  in  the  blessed  sunshine,  show 
forth  His  power. 

The  question  of  Jesus  to  Mary  implied  that  her 
weeping  was  due  to  her  ignorance  of  a  blessed  fact 
that  would  have  made  it  useless ;  and  my  weeping 
at  the  grave  of  lost  joys,  or  lost  hopes,  or  lost 
ambitions  may  often  be  the  same  ignorant  and 
useless  thing.  God  has  always  much  better  things 
in  store  for  me  than  those  which  I  have  lost,  and 
if  I  only  knew  all  that  He  does  of  the  case,  I  might 
find  that  I  have  been  weeping  over  loss,  where  I 
ought  rather  to  have  been  giving  thanks.  I  am 
often  weeping  over  losses  that  turn  out  to  have 
been  no  losses  at  all.  The  tears  that  fall  at  the 
grave  of  my  affections,  or  at  the  grave  of  my 
ambitions,  may  often  be,  like  Mary's,  only  tears 
of  ignorance ;  and  I  may  soon  discover  that  ''  God, 
having  provided  some  better  thing  for  me,"  gives 
me  what  not  merely  compensates  for  the  loss,  but 
goes  infinitely  beyond  it,  too.  If  I  were  to  erect  a 
tombstone  over  each  of  the  things  I  have  mourned 
losing  in  my  blind  and  foolish  grief,  I  would  soon 


TEARS  WIPED  AWAY  323 

be  unable  to  read  the  inscriptions  I  engraved  upon 
them,  for  very  shame  ! 

The  question  "  Why  weepest  thou  ?  "  may  also 
come  to  me  as  a  corrective  of  the  often-recurring 
but  vain  wish  that  I  had  seen  and  known  my 
Lord  in  His  earthly  life,  as  the  first  disciples  did. 
I  am  conscious  sometimes  of  a  regretful  feeling  as 
to  this.  It  seems  difficult  sometimes  to  realise  my 
Christ.  I  speak  of  Him  to  others ;  I  speak  to 
Him  in  prayer ;  and  yet  all  the  time  I  can  hardly 
help  wishing  that  I  could  picture  Him  to  myself 
as  a  Christ  whom  I  had  actually  seen.  It  is  a 
disappointment  to  me,  and  seems  a  loss,  that  I 
can  know  Him  only  by  faith.  To  have  "  seen  the 
Lord"  I  often  think  must  have  been  a  supreme 
privilege  from  which  I  am  debarred.  To  have 
gazed  upon  His  face  till  every  feature  was  stamped 
indelibly  on  my  memory  ;  to  have  listened  to  His 
human  voice  so  that  I  could  recall  every  varying 
tone ;  to  have  as  clear  a  conception  of  His  person 
as  I  have  of  some  dear  absent  friend — this,  I 
sometimes  think,  would  have  been  a  privilege 
beyond  all  others,  for  my  heart.  And  then  I  think 
how  easy  it  must  have  been  for  a  trembling 
penitent  to  fall  at  His  feet  and  be  assured  of  His 
forgiveness,  if  an  actual  human  voice  said,  "Be  of 
good  cheer,  thy  sins  are  forgiven  thee ;  "  how  great 
would  have  been  the  comfort  of  feeling  that  there 
was  no  room  for  doubt,  of  being  able  to  say,  "It 
is  Himself  that  speaks,  and  He  speaks  to  me : " 


324  TEARS  WIPED  AWAY 

whereas  now  He  appears  to  me  a  Saviour  vague, 
shadowy,  and  dim. 

Yet  this  would  be  only  repeating  Mary's  mistake. 
Better  far,  after  all,  for  me,  that  I  know  Him 
only  as  the  exalted  Christ,  no  longer  a  poor  man  of 
sorrows,  but  the  Lord  of  glory,  a  Saviour  who  can 
be  every  moment  at  my  side — nay,  a  Saviour  who 
abides  within  me,  a  Master  who  teaches  me  every 
day,  a  Lord  whose  resurrection  life  becomes  my 
very  own,  a  Eedeemer  who  is  really  far  more 
intimate  with  me  than  He  was  with  any  who 
knew  Him  in  His  life  below,  and  more  tender, 
more  sympathising,  more  able  to  help  than  the 
dearest  earthly  friend  ever  was  or  ever  could  be. 
I  can  say  as  I  looh  up  to  Him  what  I  could  not 
have  said  as  I  looked  round  about  for  Him, 
"  Whom,  having  not  seen,  I  love ;  in  whom,  though 
now  I  see  Him  not,  yet  believing,  I  rejoice  with 
joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory." 


XL  VII 
AN  EVENING  WALK 

'  What  manner  of  communications  are  these  that  ye  have  one  with 
another,  as  ye  walk,  and  are  sad  ?  " — Luke  xxiv.  17. 

The  exquisite  story  of  the  evening  walk  to  Emmaus 
is  one  of  which  no  Christian  heart  can  ever  tire. 
It  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  graphic  stories 
which  the  gospels  contain.  Some  one  has  likened 
it  to  the  tender  after-glow  sometimes  to  be  wit- 
nessed when  the  sun  has  set ;  but  I  would  rather 
think  of  it  as  the  early  freshness  of  the  morning 
when  the  sun  has  newly  risen,  and  the  earth  is  still 
bathed  in  its  dew-tears  which  in  a  few  moments 
more  will  pass  completely  away.  Possibly  the 
feeling  both  of  evening  and  of  morning  may  be  in 
it,  for  though  to  the  sad-hearted  disciples  it 
seemed  as  if  the  sun  of  their  hope  had  set  for 
ever,  it  was,  unknown  to  them,  the  Lord's  resur- 
rection day ;  and  as  from  Him  the  gloom  had 
already  disappeared,  so  from  them,  when  His  risen 

325 


326  AN  EVENING  WALK 

glory  broke  upon  their  sight,  the  gloom  would 
disappear  for  ever,  too. 

I  can  easily  understand  how  Cleopas  and  his 
companion  should  be  so  sad,  and  also  how  they 
should  wonder  at  the  stranger's  ignorance  of  what 
was  making  them  sad.  They  were  walking  mourn- 
fully homeward,  under  the  shadow  of  a  greatly  per- 
plexing mystery,  with  only  a  very  faint  gleam  of 
hope  breaking  through  the  cloud  of  their  despair  ; 
and,  heart-broken  as  they  were,  they  almost 
resented  what  seemed  to  be  a  stranger's  ignorant 
indifference.  I  know  the  feeling.  When  some 
great  sorrow  has  crushed  me  into  the  dust,  I  am 
so  absorbed  with  the  keenness  of  my  loss,  that  I 
cannot  conceive  how  all  beside  me  do  not  feel  the 
grief  acutely  too.  I  would  rather  they  did  not 
speak  to  me  at  all,  than  coldly  ask  me  what  I  am 
sorrowing  for.  But  I  think  I  understand  my 
Master's  feelings  too,  and  see  that,  though  He 
knew  well  the  secret  of  their  sadness.  He  wanted 
them  to  tell  it  out,  that  He  might  lift  it  off  for 
ever,  in  the  one  blessed  moment  when  He  revealed 
Himself. 

A  solemn,  heart-searching  question  suggests  itself 
here.  Would  I  like  my  Lord  and  Master  to  over- 
hear all  my  conversations  with  the  friends  who 
go  beside  me  on  life's  way  ?  If  He  were  to  break 
in  suddenly  on  some  of  my  talks,  and  say  "  What 
manner  of  communications  are  these  that  ye  have 
one  with  another  ?  "  how  ashamed  before  Him  I 


AN  EVENING  WALK  327 

would  sometimes  feel !  And  yet,  He  is  always  a 
listener  to  my  speech.  Dare  I  allow  myself,  in 
even  an  intimate  conversation,  to  utter  anything 
— any  bitter  word,  any  untruthful  slander,  any 
ungenerous  insinuation,  any  unseemly  jest,  any 
impure  remark — which  it  would  cover  me  with 
confusion  to  think  He  has  overheard?  Must  I 
not  set  a  watch,  every  hour,  upon  my  lips,  because 
the  Holy  Christ  is  so  close  beside  me,  listening  to 
all  I  say  ? 

Yet,  as  it  was  in  the  character,  not  of  a  reprov- 
ing, but  of  a  sympathising,  friend  that  He  spoke  to 
these  disciples,  let  me  think  of  Him  as  ready  to 
sympathise  with  and  comfort  me,  when  I  walk  sad. 
It  often  does  my  sore  heart  no  good  to  tell  its 
sorrow  to  any  earthly  friend.  To  talk  over  all  the 
incidents,  all  the  hopes,  all  the  disappointments, 
all  the  discouragements,  all  the  ^^might-have-beens  " 
connected  with  it,  only  deepens  the  gloom.  I  need 
a  tviser  friend  than  any  just  like  myself  can  be,  a 
friend  who  understands  what  perplexes  me,  a  friend 
who  Himself  sees  and  can  show  to  me  "  the  bright 
light  that  is  within  the  cloud,"  a  friend  who  has 
not  merely  the  love  to  sympathise  with  me,  but 
the  poiver  to  help.  Just  such  a  friend  is  this  great 
Christ,  who  sometimes  seems  a  stranger,  but, 
coming  to  me  and  chasing  my  gloom  away,  reveals 
Himself  as  the  very  Lord  who  said  "  Ye  shall  weep 
and  lament  while  the  world  rejoices,  but  I  will  see 
you  again,  and  your  sorrow  shall  be  turned  into  joy." 


328  AN  EVENING  WALK 

He  comes  to  me  unhidden.  It  is  just  His  love 
to  me  that  brings  Him  to  my  side.  He  comes 
unrecognised  at  first ;  for  to  me,  as  to  these  sorrow- 
ing ones,  He  wears  **  another  form  "  than  that  in 
which  I  had  known  Him  before.  My  eyes,  Hke 
theirs,  are  sealed  with  grief,  are  so  "holden  "  that 
I  cannot  know  Him  in  that  new  form  to  be  the 
same  as  ever.  He  walks  beside  me,  and  talks  with 
me,  and  makes  "  my  heart  burn  within  me ;  "  and 
yet,  for  a  time,  there  is  no  "  lifting  up,"  till,  in  a 
moment,  somehow,  the  scales  fall  from  my  eyes ;  I 
know  Him ;  and  ere  He  goes.  He  leaves  with  me 
His  own  deep,  wonderful,  satisfying,  and  unlosable 
peace. 

It  may  help  me  in  my  sorrows  to  think  of  that 
Emmaus-road  in  the  falling  shadows,  with  two 
gloom-covered  men  walking  sadly  on,  and  the 
unknown  Jesus  for  a  third.  When  my  heart  is 
crushed  by  some  sore  blow,  I  am  apt  to  think  no 
one  ever  went  along  so  dreary  a  path  before.  But 
I  see  footmarks  in  it,  which  tell  me  that  many 
another  wayfarer  has  been  already  there.  I  see 
the  path  strangely  blessed  with  a  companionship 
that  wonderfully  soothes  me,  and  I  see  that  I  will 
not  want,  for  long,  some  thrilling  word  that  will 
change  my  grief  into  a  song.  When  I  look  at  the 
thick  dust  of  that  Emmaus-road,  I  seem  to  see 
"  treasures  hid  in  the  sand,"  for  it  tells  me  what 
riches  of  comfort  lie  waiting  for  me  in  my  dreariest 
paths,  what  unexpected  joys  may  be  only  a  very 


AN  EVENING  WALK  329 

little  way  ahead,  and  how  soon  the  dirge  I  am 
waihng  out  in  a  sad  minor  key  may  be  exchanged  for 
a  burst  of  praise.  I  have  heard  that  caged  canaries 
learn  their  sweetest  notes  in  the  dark.  I  am  sure 
many  of  my  darkest  hours  have  been  the  birth- 
place of  my  highest  songs.  It  was  often  just 
when  the  water  in  my  bottle  was  completely  spent, 
and,  Hagar-like,  I  felt  that  I  could  only  lay  myself 
down  to  die,  that  my  eyes  were  opened  to  see  the 
flowing  spring  that  had  been  close  beside  me  all 
the  time,  although  I  knew  it  not.  When  I  go 
mourning  without  the  sun,  a  few  words  from  the 
Eisen  Lord  can  easily  put  everything  right ;  but  I 
often  need  the  darkness  in  order  to  appreciate  the 
light. 

How  like  the  Master  it  was,  to  go  after  these  two 
sorrowing  ones  on  the  very  day  of  His  triumphant 
resurrection !  He  thought  it  worth  while  to  walk 
seven  miles,  and  spend  two  hours  in  the  work  of 
comforting  two  obscure,  lowly,  dejected  disciples. 
The  tenderness  of  His  love  comes  out  in  that. 
But  it  seems  to  me  a  most  significant  fact  that 
the  Lord,  after  His  resurrection,  s]joJce  only  to  dis- 
ciples. He  had  nothing  more  to  say  to  the  world. 
He  had  said  to  it  all  that  He  was  sent  to  say,  and 
done  for  it  all  that  He  was  sent  to  do.  His  work 
for  it  was  finished,  but  not  His  work  for  His  own 
disciples.  When  His  great  work  of  testimony  and 
of  snfferi?ig  was  over,  His  tender  work  of  comforting 
still  went  on. 


330  AN  EVENING  WALK 

And  He  seems  never  to  have  spoken,  as  the 
Kisen  One,  to  any  but  sorrowing  disciples.  To 
Mary  and  the  other  women  weeping  at  the  tomb ; 
to  Peter  overcome  with  self-reproach ;  to  those 
two  going  to  Emmaus  ;  to  the  ten  shut  closely 
in  the  upper  room  in  fear  ;  to  Thomas,  sad  because 
he  wanted  to  believe  and  could  not ;  to  the  nine  at 
the  lake-side,  dispirited  with  a  night  of  fruitless 
toil,  still  more  dispirited  because  their  Master  had 
not  come  to  them,  as  He  said  He  would ;  to  the 
five  hundred  in  Galilee,  and  to  the  eleven  on 
Olivet,  all  of  them  sad  because  it  was  a  scene  of 
leave-taking,  the  parting  with  One  whom  they 
would  see  on  earth  no  more.  Every  recorded  word 
of  the  Eisen  Lord  was  a  word  to  the  sad,  whether 
their  sadness  arose  from  sin,  or  trial,  or  disappoint- 
ment, or  unbelief,  or  fear.  And  He  spoke  only 
comfort :  nothing  else.  Never  a  word  about  their 
sin ;  never  a  word  of  reproof ;  only  words  of  good 
cheer,  unfolding  His  own  glory,  and  their  glory  in 
following  Him.  Living  Himself  in  the  joy  of 
victory.  He  only  wished  them  to  be  sharers  in 
that  joy. 

This  tender  Christ  is  with  me  now.  Many  a 
surprise  visit  I  have  had  from  Him  already,  and 
they  are  only  foreshadowings  of  the  still  greater 
surprise  He  is  preparing  for  me  when  He  shall 
come  to  disappear  no  more,  when  my  eyes  shall  no 
longer  be  "  holden  that  I  cannot  know  Him,"  but 
I  shall  "  see  Him  as  He  is."     What  a  vision  that 


AN  EVENING  WALK  331 

will  be — not  to  see  Him  as  He  tvas,  weary,  worn, 
shamed,  rejected  of  men,  acquainted  with  grief, 
but  to  see  Him  as  John  in  Patmos  saw  Him, 
the  crowned  King  of  heaven ;  and  to  see  that 
the  Christ  upon  the  throne  is  just  the  same 
as  the  Christ  of  my  faith,  the  Christ  of  my 
prayers,  the  Christ  of  my  communions  here ;  to 
see  that  the  hand  that  holds  the  seven  stars  is 
just  the  hand  that  was  laid  in  blessing  on  the 
heads  of  little  children ;  that  the  face  shining 
above  the  brightness  of  the  sun  is  just  the  face 
that  drew  sinners  to  His  feet ;  that  the  breast  girt 
with  the  golden  girdle  is  just  the  same  as  that  on 
which  John  leaned  his  happy  head ;  to  see  that 
His  glory  has  made  no  change  in  His  heart — that 
is  the  vision  reserved  for  me  when  my  journey 
along  the  dusty  highway  is  at  an  end,  and  I  reach 
the  home  from  which  He  will  "  vanish  "  no  more. 
Keep  me,  0  Saviour,  till  I  see  Thee  there ! 


XLVIII 
OPENED  EYES 

"  O  fools,  and  slow  of  heart  to  believe  all  that  the  prophets  have 
spoken !  Ought  not  Christ  to  have  suffered  these  things,  and  to  enter 
into  His  glory  ?  " — Luke  xxiv.  25,  26. 

I  AM  ready  enough  to  echo  my  Lord's  rebuke  of 
these  two  disciples.  Certainly  they  ought  to  have 
better  understood  the  Scriptures,  for  these  Scrip- 
tures spoke  clearly  enough.  There  was  a  culpable 
ignorance  in  these  men,  a  blindness  of  heart  that 
He  could  not  excuse.  But  am  I  so  different  from 
them  myself  ?  Do  I  myself  not  often  fail  to  see 
truth  that  is  clear,  fail  to  grasp  the  promises  and 
rest  believingly  in  them  ?  Do  I  myself  always  see 
that  "  suffering  "  is  the  way  to  "  glory  " — the  only 
way  ?  Why  do  I  doubt  and  despair,  when  things 
fall  out  to  me  exactly  as  my  God  has,  a  thousand 
times  over,  told  me  they  must  ? 

The  Lord  spoke  to  these  disciples  of  a  necessity 
for  His  sufferings ;  and  that  necessity  was  two-fold. 
There  was  a  necessity  that  the  Scriptures  should 

332 


OPENED  EYES  333 

be  fulfilled ;  but  there  was  also  a  necessity  in  the 
very  nature  of  the  case.  The  whole  teaching  of 
the  Scriptures,  from  first  to  last,  had  been  that  the 
Christ  should  be  a  suffering,  before  He  was  a  reign- 
ing, Christ.  The  prophets,  with  one  voice,  had 
spoken  of  "the  sufferings  of  Christ,  and  the  glory 
that  should  follow.'^  Sometimes  the  picture  of 
the  Sufferer  was  clearer  than  the  picture  of  the 
Conqueror.  Sometimes,  again,  it  was  the  glory 
that  was  largest  to  the  eye.  But  both  were  there ; 
and  only  ignorance  of  the  Scriptures  could  have 
hid  them  from  view.  Jesus  knew  the  Scrip- 
tures as  none  else  had  ever  done.  The  Word  of 
God  had  all  along  been  the  very  life  of  His  soul. 
His  one  answer,  to  caviller  and  tempter  alike,  had 
been  "  It  is  written";  and  here,  in  talking  to  these 
two,  His  testimony  to  the  8cri;ptures  was,  that  the 
Scriptures  had  been  only  one  long  testimomj  to 
Him;  for  He  found,  and  brought  out  to  view, 
in  all  the  Scriptures,  the  things  concerning 
Himself ! 

How  strange  it  must  have  been  for  Christ  to  read 
this  book,  finding  absolutely  nothing  in  Himself  of 
the  sins  which  it  rebuked,  but  finding  everywhere 
glimpses  and  hopes  and  predictions  of  the  coming 
one  who  was  Himself!  As  He  read  the  sacred 
page,  the  world  of  all  time  lay  before  His  eye,  like 
a  lost  and  helpless  man  gazing  with  upturned  face 
to  the  sky,  looking  for  the  advent  of  some  great 
Deliverer,  a  Kedeemer  who  would  conquer  sin  by 


334  OPENED  EYES 

"bearing"  it,  who  would  vanquish  death  bypas- 
sing through  it,  who  would  suffer  to  the  uttermost 
that  He  might  save  to  the  uttermost,  and  then 
would  reign  in  the  glory  which  His  obedience  unto 
death  had  won ;  and,  all  along,  He  could  say,  as 
He  read,  "  This  Scripture  is  to  be  fulfilled  in  Me." 
I  would  learn  from  my  Master  to  reverence  more 
deeply,  and  to  ponder  more  believingly,  this  divine 
Word  of  God,  in  which  I  can  see  not  only  things 
concerning  Hmi,  but  things  concerning  myself 
as  well.  I  need  to  watch  lest,  in  a  busy  age,  the 
Scripture  should  cease  to  be  the  constant  nourish- 
ment of  my  higher  life  ;  lest  I  hurry  off  to  my 
business  in  the  morning,  too  pressed  for  time  to 
study  it,  and  come  in  at  night,  too  tired  to  do  it ; 
and  lest  all  kinds  of  literature  eagerly  read  should 
destroy  my  relish  for  it,  and  so  my  soul  should 
starve,  even  with  God's  rich  bread  within  my 
reach.  I  need  to  remember  that  a  careless  reader 
of  the  Bible  never  becomes  a  close  walker  with 
God ;  and  that  if  I  read  it  seldom,  I  will  soon  not 
care  to  read  it  at  all.  It  becomes  distasteful  only 
when  little  read.  It  grows  in  interest  to  the  heart 
that  loves  it,  and  is  always  freshest  to  those  that 
study  it  most  deeply,  and  know  it  best ;  and  that 
just  because  the  Christ  to  whom  it  bears  witness  is 
an  inexhaustible  Christ,  and  the  soul-experience 
which  it  describes  is  an  inexhaustible  theme. 
Hidden  wonders  start  out  perpetually  to  view, 
when  I  hear  it   speak  of  my  own  heart  with  its 


OPENED  EYES  335 

longings  and  its  sins,  and  when  I  hear  it  speak  of 
Christ's  heart,  with  His  unfathomable  grace.  But, 
for  this,  I  need  always  to  offer  the  old  prayer, 
"  Open  Thou  mine  eyes,  that  I  may  behold  the 
wonders  of  Thy  law."  If  it  ever  seems  dull  and 
meaningless,  it  is  only  as  the  stained  window  of  a 
cathedral  looks  dull  and  meaningless  to  one  wJio 
stands  outside.  To  see  its  beauty,  I  need  to  enter 
the  sanctuary  first,  and  then  look  at  the  window 
from  the  iiiside,  to  the  light  beyond.  The  splen- 
dour cannot  be  discerned  till  two  requisites  meet, 
a  seeing  eye,  on  the  one  hand,  and  a  shining  light 
on  the  other.  Scripture  becomes  to  me  a  glorious 
transparency,  only  when  I  hold  the  record  up  be- 
tween my  opened  eye  and  the  light  that  shines 
from  heaven.  But  if  my  eyes  are  open,  I  will  (as 
Bishop  Watson  said)  see  only  two  things  in  it  from 
first  to  last,  "  a  revelation  of  the  gracious  heart  of 
God,  and  a  revelation  of  the  wicked  heart  of  man ; " 
and  I  shall  see  the  God  of  the  gracious  heart 
reaching  out  His  hand  to  the  sinner  of  the  wicked 
heart,  and  offering  to  give  him  life  and  peace  and 
holiness  through  His  Son. 

Now,  let  me  remind  myself  that  the  same  Scrip- 
tures that  showed  my  Lord  and  Master  how  needful 
it  was  that  His  path  to  glory  should  be  one  of  suffer- 
ing, show  me  that  a  share  in  that  glory  can  come 
to  me  in  no  other  way;  that  "  through  much  tribu- 
lation I  also  must  enter  into  the  kingdom."  The 
whole  of  the  reasons  for  this  I  do  not  yet  know ; 


336  OPENED  EYES 

but  I  see  enough  to  show  me  at  least  the  end 
which  God  has  in  view.  It  is  only  one  of  many 
mortifying  proofs  of  what  rebellious  and  intractable 
children  of  the  heavenly  Father  the  best  of  dis- 
ciples are,  that  even  He  whose  name  is  Love  can 
find  no  other  way  of  bringing  them  to  a  perfected 
immortality  except  a  life-long  discipline  of  sorrows 
and  pains.  Even  my  own  experience  has  been 
enough  to  teach  me  that  ''suffering"  is  the 
school  in  which  I  learn  the  deepest  secrets  of 
my  Saviour's  love,  the  fire  in  which  my  heart-evil 
is  most  thoroughly  purged  away,  the  Gethsemane 
where,  most  of  all,  I  discover  the  preciousness  and 
the  power  of  prayer. 

By  the  discipline  of  suffering  I  learn  better  to 
understand  my  Lord ;  but  by  it,  I  learn  also  how 
to  sympathise  with  other  sufferers.  Only  one  who 
can  speak  feelingly  from  his  own  experience  is  of 
much  use  as  a  comforter  of  the  sad.  There  are 
some  round  about  me  in  the  world  to-day,  whom  I 
could  almost  wish  to  see  more  afflicted  than  they 
ever  yet  have  been ;  for  then  they  would  be  more 
tender-spirited,  less  cold,  less  censorious,  less  hard, 
— and,  to  lose  a  good  deal  of  their  hardness  would 
be  a  blessing  not  only  to  themselves  but  io  many 
beside  them  whom  their  unfeelingness  deeply 
wounds.  That  hardness  can  be  taken  out  of 
men  only  by  the  furnace-heat.  Sons  of  Thunder 
can  be  made  anywhere.  Barnabases,  sons  of 
Consolation,  can  be  made  only  in  the  fire.      The 


OPENED  EYES  337 

keenest  suffering,  therefore,  appointed  to  me,  may 
be  only  my  apprenticeship  to  the  sacred  office  of 
being  a  comforter  to  some  sad  hearts  beside  me. 

In  this  path  of  suffering,  too,  (and  it  will  be  good 
to  remember  this),  I  am  only  treading  in  the  foot- 
prints of  my  Lord.  He,  also,  was  "  made  perfect 
through  suffering."  He  gained  thereby  a  greater 
sympathy  with  tried  and  sorrow-wounded  men, 
and  became  thus  a  Saviour  more  perfectly  equipped 
for  His  saving  work.  In  some  strange,  mysterious 
way,  even  He  ''learned  obedience  by  the  things 
which  He  suffered."  How  that  could  be,  I  cannot 
know;  but  this  I  see,  that  if  I  am  to  be  "con- 
formed to  His  image  "  I  must  go  through  the  fire ; 
for  though  God  had  one  Son  tuitJiout  sm,  He  never 
yet  had  a  Son  loithout  suffering.  Indeed,  chasten- 
ing is  part  of  the  peculiar  heritage  of  all  sons  and 
daughters  of  God.  The  great  Husbandman  does 
not  prune  the  brambles  outside  His  garden-wall, 
but  He  does  the  fruit  trees  within.  Better  far  to 
be  His  wounded  trees  than  the  unwounded  thorns 
of  the  wilderness.  If  what  Israel's  "  sweet  psal- 
mist"  said  is  true,  "Blessed  is  he  whose  iniquity 
is  forgiven,"  and  if  what  he  also  says  is  true, 
"Blessed  is  the  man  whom  thou  chastenest,  0 
Lord,"  then  the  pardo7ied  man  who  is  also  a, 
chastened  man  is  doubly  blest. 

I  think  Bunyan  must  have  well  understood  this 
when  he  described  the  valley  of  humiliation  as  "the 
best  and  most  fruitful  piece  of  ground  in  all  these 

23 


338  OPENED  EYES 

parts ;  there,  our  Lord  Himself  had  once  His 
country  house,  and  He  loved  much  to  be  in  it ; 
and  though  Christian  had  the  hard  hap  to  meet 
Apollyon  there,  yet  I  must  tell  you  that  in  former 
times  men  met  angels  there,  found  pearls  there, 
yea,  met  there  with  the  Lord  Himself,  who  has  left 
a  yearly  revenue  to  be  expended  on  all  pilgrims 
for  their  maintenance  while  in  it." 

To  suffer  may  be  hard;  but  to  "  suffer  ivitli  Him^^ 
can  never  be  hard  :  and,  to  be  "  glorified  together  " 
— who  can  tell  the  ineffable  blessedness  of  that ! 
Yery  beautifully  said  Samuel  Eutherford,  writing 
to  a  much-tried  friend,  "Faint  not,  the  miles  to 
heaven  are  few  and  short.  There  are  many  heads 
lying  on  Christ's  bosom,  but  there  is  room  for  yours 
among  the  rest.'' 


XLIX 
CHEIST  EVER  THE   SAME 

"  Why  are  ye  troubled  ?  and  why  do  thoughts  arise  in  your  hearts  ? 
behold  My  hands  and  My  feet,  that  it  is  I  Myself :  handle  Me,  and 
see.  .  .  .  And  while  they  yet  believed  not  for  joy,  and  wondered.  He 
said  unto  them.  Have  ye  here  any  meat  ?  And  they  gave  Him  a  piece 
of  a  broiled  fish  .  .  .  and  He  took  it,  and  did  eat  before  them." — 
Luke  xxiv,  38,  43. 

So  then,  though  now  the  Lord  of  Glory,  their 
Master  was  showing  Himself  to  be  the  same 
tender  -  hearted,  loving  Friend  as  ever.  The 
gathered  disciples  were  afraid  of  Him,  as,  indeed, 
they  might  well  be,  not  knowing  Him  perfectly  as 
yet ;  for  they  were  not  merely  a  dispirited  com- 
pany, having  had  no  visit  from  Him  as  they  had 
hoped,  and  a  trembling  company,  fearing  the 
vengeance  of  the  crucifiers  of  their  Master,  but 
a  conscience-smitten  company  too,  deeply  conscious 
of  their  sin  in  being  ashamed  of  Him,  and  con- 
cluding that  if  He  were  really  risen,  as  they  had 
been  told.  He  would  now  be  ashamed  of    them. 

339 


340  CHRIST  EVER  THE  SAME 

How  wonderful,  then,  it  must  have  been  to  them, 
that  as  He  mysteriously  passed  through  the  bolted 
door  and  stood  in  their  midst.  His  very  first  word 
should  be,  "  Peace  be  unto  you  !  "  Not  a  word  of 
rebuke,  not  a  word  recalling  the  shameful  past, 
not  even  any  waiting  till  they  had  confessed  their 
sin.  The  sin  had  already  been  put  behind  His 
back.  He  had  nothing  now  but  His  love  to  speak 
to  them  about.  The  God  of  peace  had  brought 
again  from  the  dead  the  great  Shepherd  of  the 
sheep ;  and  the  first  thing  that  Shepherd  did  was 
to  comfort  His  little  flock,  saying,  ^^  Peace  be  unto 
you !  " 

He  had  not  said  ''  Peace  be  unto  you  !  "  to  the 
luomen  whom  He  met  at  the  grave.  They  had  not 
deserted  Him,  as  the  rest  had  done ;  and  tliey  did 
not  need  forgiveness  for  forsaking  Him.  But  to 
those  who  did  need  it,  and  were  fearing  it  would 
never  come.  He  brought  it  as  His  first  message, 
and  brought  it  in  the  same  old  way,  without 
anything  to  suggest  how  keenly  He  had  felt  their 
sin ;  speaking  to  them  as  if  it  never  had  been  there, 
and  then  proceeding  to  remove  all  fear  and  doubt 
at  once,  by  giving  them,  first  the  evidence  of 
hearing^  and  then  the  evidence  of  sight,  and  then 
the  evidence  of  touch,  and  next  the  evidence  that 
came  from  seeing  Him  actually  eat  and  drink,  thus 
''  by  many  infallible  proofs  "  convincing  them  that 
He  was  really  "  that  same  Jesus  "  whom  they  had 
known  and  loved  and  followed  in  days  gone  by. 


CHRIST  EVER  THE  SAME  341 

Let  me  be  very  still  as  I  listen  to  the  words  that 
tell  me  that  this  Lord  and  Master  is,  to  me  also, 
the  "same  yesterday,  and  to-day,  and  for  ever."  To 
rid  me  of  all  my  misgivings.  He  tells  me,  first,  that 
He  is  no  longer  a  dead,  but  a  living,  Christ ;  and 
He  tells  me,  next,  that  though  He  has  "  entered 
into  His  glory,"  He  is  "  the  same  Jesus  "  as  of  old 
— the  same  in  tenderness  and  the  same  in  grace.  I 
would  be  a  brighter  Christian  than  I  am,  if  I 
thought  of  Him  as  the  living  Christ.  I  sing  with 
joy — 

"  My  faith  looks  up  to  Thee 
Thou  Lamb  of  Calvary"; 

but  perhaps  I  think,  not  too  much — I  cannot 
do  that — but  too  exclusively  of  the  Christ  that 
died,  and  not  sufficiently  of  the  Christ  who 
lives  and  reigns,  and  is  now  my  living  Advocate 
and  Friend  for  ever.  At  least,  Paul  seems  to  have 
thought  so  when  he  spoke  of  the  consolation  of 
knowing  the  "  Christ  that  died,  yea  rather  is  risen 
again,  who  is  even  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  who  also 
maketh  intercession  for  us."  The  life  of  my  Lord 
did  not  end  nineteen  hundred  years  ago !  Just 
that  He  might  be  not  a  local  Christ,  or  a  Christ 
for  one  age  alone,  He  rose  into  that  unchanging 
life  that  knows  no  periods,  no  epochs,  no  time,  but 
is  an  Eternal  Now ;  and  He  is  with  me  to-day. 

Some  Christians  seem  to  be  living  only  upon  a 
joast  Christ,  and  some  only  on  a  future  Christ.  I 
would  seek  to  live  upon  a  lyresent  Christ,  and  find 


342  CHRIST  EVER  THE  SAME 

my  comfort  and  my  sanctity  in  that ;  and  all  the 
more  when  I  remember  that  the  past  the  present 
and  the  future  are  all  in  the  one  great  Lord  who  is 
"the  same  yesterday,  and  to-day,  and  for  ever,"  so 
that  my  faith  can  cling  to  the  Christ  who  died,  my 
love  rest  satisfied  in  the  Christ  who  is  risen,  and 
my  liope  expect  with  joy  the  Christ  who  is  to  come 
again;  for,  to  the  heart  that  knows  Him,  He  is 
really  "  all,"  not  merely  the  alpha  and  the  omega, 
hut  all  the  letters  betwee7i. 

My  faith  in  Him  as  the  Christ  of  history  is  con- 
firmed and  intensified  when  I  see  that  He  is  the 
Christ  of  experiejice  also — a  Christ  whom  tens  of 
thousands  have  tried,  have  trusted,  have  rejoiced 
in,  have  found  an  all-sufficing  Redeemer  and 
Friend.  All  down  the  ages.  He  has  been  doing 
in  His  invisible  risen  life,  the  same  wonders  of 
grace  and  power  that  He  did,  in  visible  form, 
in  Judea  and  Gralilee  centuries  ago.  How  many 
millions  of  crushed  hearts  since  then  have  heard 
Him  say  just  what  He  said  of  old,  "  Come  unto 
Me  and  I  will  give  you  rest ;  "  how  many  a  sinful 
soul  has  heard  Him  say,  "  Be  thou  clean ;  "  how 
many  a  penitent  has  heard  Him  say,  as  distinctly 
as  He  said  it  to  the  dying  thief,  "  To-day  thou 
shalt  be  with  Me  in  Paradise!"  To  how  many 
a  bereaved  one  He  has  repeated  His  old  consola- 
tion, "  I  am  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life  !  "  At 
how  many  an  Emmaus  has  He  made  Himself  known 
in  the  breaking  of  bread !     How  often  has  He  said 


CHRIST  EVER  THE  SAME  343 

to  trembling  and  dispirited  ones  just  what  He  said 
in  the  upper  room,  "  Why  are  ye  troubled  ?  and 
why  do  thoughts  arise  in  your  hearts?  "  All  down 
the  ages  His  voice  has  been  heard  s^eaMng  peace, 
and  His  presence  has  been  felt  hestowing  it. 

Have  I  not  myself  had  experiences  of  His  grace 
that  I  cannot  dispute,  experiences  I  would  not 
part  with  for  a  thousand  worlds  ?  I  recognise  in 
His  words  of  old  the  very  tone  in  which  He  has 
spoken  to  my  own  heart  many  a  time.  To  me  the 
Christ  of  history  and  the  Christ  of  experience  are 
one — "  that  same  Jesus  "  ;  and  I  see  that  instead 
of  its  being  difficult  for  me  to  trust  this  Christ 
whom  I  have  never  seen,  because  His  earthly  life 
now  lies  so  far  back  in  the  past,  it  is  becoming 
every  day  easier  to  do  it,  because  the  number  of 
those  who  have  trusted  Him  and  found  Him  true 
is  increasing  every  day.  He  stands  before  me  now 
in  a  glory  He  never  had  before,  a  Saviour  whose 
grace  has  been  tested  and  experienced  by  ''a 
multitude  that  no  man  can  number,  out  of  every 
kindred  and  nation  and  people  and  tongue."  He 
is  not  now,  as  He  once  was,  a  poor  "  Man  of 
sorrows,  acquainted  with  grief,"  rejected  and 
despised  ;  He  is  a  great  Redeeming  Lord  into 
whose  hands  millions  have  put  all  that  they 
counted  most  dear ;  on  the  faith  of  whose  promises 
millions  have  lived  blessed  lives  and  died  trium- 
phant deaths.  Thousands  have  died  for  Him ; 
thousands  more  ivoidd  have  died  for  Him   if  He 


344  CHRIST  EVER  THE  SAME 

had  asked  them  to  do  it.  How  much  easier  it  is 
for  me  to  trust  this  Christ,  when  I  see  how  milHons 
have  trusted  Him  before  me,  than  if  I  had  been 
one  out  of  a  very  few  that  had  discovered  Him  to 
be  worthy  of  trust  at  all !  It  is  no  new  experiment 
I  am  called  to  make  when  summoned  to  follow  a 
Christ  like  this.  The  bridge  by  which  I  am  urged 
to  cross  the  surging  flood  is  no  new  structure, 
untested,  and  possibly  insecure.  It  has  been 
trodden  already  by  the  feet  of  ten  thousand  times 
ten  thousand  heavily-burdened  men,  and  it  has 
stood  the  strain.  Not  one  plank  has  started  these 
nineteen  hundred  years.  Surely  I  may  plant  my 
feet  where  so  many  millions  have  already  planted 
theirs.  Let  me  often  go  back,  in  adoring  thought, 
to  the  place  where  Jesus  died ;  but  let  me  also 
think  of  Him  steadily  as  the  Living  One  who  dieth 
no  more,  and  who  is  with  me  still.  I  will  think 
much  of  Jesus  on  the  cross,  but,  if  I  can,  I  will 
think  even  more  of  Jesus  on  the  throne  above,  and 
Jesus  in  my  heart  below.  Then  the  tone  of  my 
Saviour's  question  will  be  very  sweet,  "  Why  art 
tho2i  troubled,  and  why  do  thoughts  arise  in  tJiy 
heart,  if  I  am  beside  thee  every  day  ?  " 

The  thoughts  that  arise  in  my  heart  may  be 
doubting  thoughts,  anxious  thoughts,  regretful 
thoughts,  remorseful  thoughts,  but  I  will  let  this 
thought  be  as  the  sun  that  banishes  the  mists, 
"  My  Lord  is  with  me  still."  If  I  am  "  troubled  " 
with  thoughts  of  my  sin  He  tells  me  that  He  "rose 


CHRIST  EVER  THE  SAME  345 

again  for  my  justification,"  that  He  bore  my  sin 
upon  Him  into  the  grave  and  left  it  there,  and  now 
to  me  "  there  is  no  condemnation."  If  I  am 
"troubled"  by  the  chafing  of  my  sorrows  and 
cares,  He  tells  me  that  what  He  rose  from  the 
grave  to  give  me  is  His  perfect  peace.  I  will  just 
sit  still  and  let  His  peace  eome  in.  If  I  am 
"troubled"  with  the  thought  of  death,  and  my 
lying  in  the  grave.  He  tells  me  that  He  passed 
through  it  too,  and  consecrated  it  for  me  by  lying- 
there  Himself ;  so  that  "  because  He  lives,  I  shall 
live  also."  I  will  therefore  "  fear  no  evil,"  but  let 
the  Conqueror  of  Death  take  me  by  the  hand  and 
lead  me  through.  My  grasp  of  Him  may  then  be 
weak  enough,  but  His  mighty  grasp  of  me  defies 
both  death  and  hell.  With  the  Risen  One  as  my 
Life  I  cannot  perish ;  and  if  I  believe  that  Jesus 
died  and  rose  again,  even  so  them  also  that  are 
laid  to  sleep  by  Jesus,  God  will  bring  with  Him; 
and  I  "  comfort  myself  with  these  words." 


THE  THOUGHTFULNESS  OF  CHEIST 

"  Children,  have  ye  any  meat  ?  " — John  xxi.  5. 

The  beautiful  story,  in  the  midst  of  which  this 
question  lies,  shows  me  again  the  graciousness 
of  my  Master  in  a  most  attractive  way.  The 
disciples  had  gone  to  Galilee,  as  they  were  com- 
manded to  do  ;  and  while  waiting  for  His  promised 
coming  to  them,  had  betaken  themselves,  for 
present  needs,  to  their  old  craft  as  fishermen. 
This,  too,  was  in  accordance  with  His  instructions 
that,  until  Pentecost  set  them  absolutely  free  for 
their  spiritual  work,  they  would  need  to  rely  upon 
their  own  resources.  That,  of  course,  did  not 
hinder  them  from  daily  expectation  of  His  coming. 
Their  days  were  given  to  that,  and  their  nights  to 
providing  for  their  earthly  wants.  Possibly,  as 
the  days  went  by  and  He  did  not  come,  they  began 
to  be  discouraged  by  hope  deferred,  and  had  almost 
given  up  the  expectation  that  had  cheered  them  at 

346 


THE  THOUGHTFULNESS  OF  CHRIST     347 

first.  At  least,  it  is  certain  that  an  appearance 
of  their  Master  on  the  morning  of  that  day  was 
the  last  thing  they  were  looking  for.  Yet  it  was 
just  when  least  expected,  and  when  they  needed 
Him  most,  that  He  stood  beside  them,  and  gave 
them  a  new  proof  that  He  was  the  same  thoughtful, 
considerate,  and  Almighty  Friend  they  had  long 
known  Him  to  be. 

It  is  worthy  of  note  that,  in  speaking  to  them 
from  the  high  ground  on  the  shore.  He  did  not 
call  them  teJcnia — "My  little  children" — as  He 
used  to  do.  That  was  a  sacred  word — a  word 
which  would  have  recalled  the  upper  room  so 
vividly  as  to  betray  Him  at  once.  He  only  said 
faidia — "  Young  men  " — or,  as  we,  in  our  col- 
loquial, would  say,  "boys" — that  being  the 
customary  word  of  greeting  from  any  stranger 
passing  by.  The  Master's  disclosures  of  Himself 
are  only  to  faith  and  love ;  but,  just  to  evoke  the 
faith  and  love,  He  veils  Himself,  and  puts  on  the 
air  of  a  stranger. 

But  I  have  here  a  beautiful  illustration  of  how 
interested  my  great  Lord  is  in  the  smallest  things 
of  my  daily  need.  He  comes  to  me  just  when  I 
am  busy  with  my  humblest  duties ;  He  anticipates 
my  wants ;  He  cares  for  my  body  as  well  as  for 
my  soul ;  He  can  think  of  my  requiring  sustenance 
after  long  labour  and  weariness ;  and  He  provides 
that  first,  before  He  speaks  to  me  of  higher  things. 
His  loving  thoughtfulness  shows  Him  to  be  my 


348     THE  THOUGHTFULNESS  OF  CHRIST 

brother-man — a  brotherly  Christ  who  is  deeply 
interested  in  the  common  business  of  my  life,  and 
who  sits  down  beside  me  as  I  eat  what  His  own 
bounty  has  provided,  and  what  His  presence  sancti- 
fies and  cheers.  That  fire  on  the  coals  and  that 
abundant  haul  must  have  seemed  to  these  disciples 
to  say — and  they  say  it  to  me — "  With  Me  to  care 
for  you,  you  will  never  want :  be  sure  henceforth, 
that  when  you  go  forth  to  serve  Me,  I  will  look 
after  the  supplies."  The  soldiers  of  this  King  will 
never  be  allowed  to  starve.  He  Himself  will  attend 
to  the  commissariat. 

This  story  tells  me,  that,  when  engaged  in  my 
lawful  calling,  the  Master  is  not  ashamed  to  come 
to  me  in  my  homely  work  and  coarse  attire ;  but 
it  also  tells  me,  that  in  that  earthly  calling,  even 
my  largest  experience  will  not  bring  me  success, 
till  He  directs  me  to  it.  "  The  race  is  not  to 
the  swift,  nor  bread  to  the  wise,  nor  riches  to  men 
of  understanding,  nor  favour  to  men  of  skill." 
Unless  the  Lord  fills  the  net,  the  scholar,  the 
preacher,  the  merchant,  the  tradesman,  the  states- 
man, may  toil  all  night  and  catch  nothing.  And 
very  powerfully  is  it  suggested  to  me  here,  that 
His  interposition  often  comes  just  when  human 
effort  has  completely  failed.  Indeed  He  lets  the 
failure  become  absolutely  disheartening,  on  very 
purpose  to  prepare  the  way  for  manifesting  His 
power.  It  would  have  been  just  as  easy  for  Him 
to  fill  tbat  net  during  the  night  as  in  the  early 


THE  THOUGHTFULNESS   OF  CHRIST     349 

morning ;  but  then  the  disciples  would  have 
attributed  their  success  to  themselves  and  not 
to  Him  ;  and  He  lets  human  helplessness  be  at 
its  worst  before  He  gives  His  richest  and  His  best. 
He  gives  His  best,  too,  in  unlikely  places,  as  well 
as  at  unlikely  times.  Very  rarely  have  my  best 
blessings  been  found  just  tvJiere  I  was  expecting 
them,  or  just  as  I  was  expecting  them  either. 
I  have  found  a  blessing  come  to  me  in  sick- 
ness that  I  never  found  in  health.  I  have 
found  it  in  some  dark  trial,  though  I  missed  it 
when  the  world  was  bright.  I  have  found  it  one 
day  in  the  same  house  of  prayer  where,  on  hun- 
dreds of  previous  days,  I  had  found  nothing  for 
my  soul.  Some  verse  of  Scripture  that  I  had 
known  from  my  childhood,  that  was  quite  familiar 
but  yet  had  no  special  interest  for  me,  came  to  my 
mind  in  some  critical  moment  of  my  life,  and 
instantly  became  luminous  with  the  light  of  God — 
a  message  that  brought  me  rest  at  once.  God 
often  finds  men  where  they  are  not  expecting  Him. 
They  miss  Him  in  their  accustomed  life  at  home  ; 
but,  for  some  reason  or  other,  of  business  or  of 
health,  they  go  abroad,  and  in  a  foreign  land  that 
hand  lays  hold  of  them  which  they  had  long 
resisted  here  and  shaken  off.  He  "leads  the 
blind  by  a  way  that  they  know  not."  His  ways 
of  grace  have  the  same  inscription  as  His  ways 
in  Providence,  "past  finding  out." 

This  is  the  Divine  side  of   the  matter ;  but  I 


350     THE  THOUGHTFULNESS   OF  CHRIST 

must  not  forget  that  there  is  a  human  side  of  it 
too.  The  grace-side  the  Lord  keeps  in  His  own 
hands  alone ;  but  the  dutij-side,  the  prayer-mdQ  He 
leaves  in  mine.  Just  because  He  so  lovingly  con- 
cerns Himself  with  all  my  smallest  affairs,  He 
would  have  me  consult  Him  about  them  all.  I 
am  quite  ready  to  consult  Him  about  the  great 
things  of  life.  I  am  eager  to  consult  Him  about 
the  perplexing  and  sorrowful  things,  but  the  minor 
things  of  daily  routine  I  think  I  can  manage 
myself !  And  yet  how  often  have  I  seen  a  long 
train  of  events,  which  changed  the  whole  course 
of  a  human  life  to  its  latest  hour,  set  in  motion 
by  some  trivial,  unforeseen,  "accidental"  occur- 
rence, on  a  day  that,  when  it  began,  seemed  just 
like  any  other  day,  with  no  special  danger  in  it, 
and  no  special  significance  attaching  to  it.  A  few 
words  spoken,  a  hasty  bargain  made,  a  casual 
introduction  on  the  street,  or  in  the  house  of  a 
friend,  the  writing  or  the  receiving  of  a  letter — a 
hundred  such  things  as  these  may  easily  change  the 
whole  colour  of  a  life,  so  that  the  memory  of  the 
day  on  which  they  happened  w^ll  be  either  a  life- 
long joy  or  a  lifelong  regret;  and  yet,  when  the 
day  began,  there  was  nothing  to  forewarn  what  the 
issues  of  it  would  be. 

It  is  no  wonder,  surely,  in  view  of  this,  that 
God's  command  to  me  is  "  In  all  thy  ways 
acknowledge  Him,  and  He  shall  direct  thy  paths." 
But  if  He  promises  to  guide  me  not  only  in  the 


THE  THOUGHTFULNESS  OF  CHRIST     351 

broad  liighivays  of  my  life,  but  in  its  smallest  and 
obscurest  imtlis^  because  even  in  the  smallest  I 
need  to  be  led,  it  is  the  least  He  can  expect  that 
I  should  ash  Him  to  do  it.  I  cannot  but  think 
that  these  disciples  on  the  lake  must  have  prayed 
for  the  Master's  help,  as  they  remembered  how 
marvellously  He  had  filled  their  net  three  years 
before.  I  cannot  but  think  of  them  as  saying  one 
to  another,  "  Oh,  that  the  great  Master  were  with 
us  now !  "  There  were  many  strong  heart-longings 
at  least,  in  that  weary  night,  and  if  these  aspirations 
were  not  definite  prayers  they  were  the  next  thing 
to  that ;  and  by  the  w^atchful,  gracious  Master  they 
were  taken  as  prayers  and  answered  to  the  full. 

Once  more,  I  see  here  that  God's  rich  blessings 
are  sure  to  be  very  liumhlmg  to  the  heart  that 
receives  them.  There  is  nothing  like  the  exceed- 
ing abundance  of  the  Lord's  goodness  for  making 
a  man  feel  his  own  un worthiness.  An  awe  and 
silence  fell  on  the  disciples  as  soon  as  John  said, 
"It  is  the  Lord."  They  could  only  wonder  and 
adore ;  and  was  not  that  a  preparation  of  them 
for  bearing  the  great  success  soon  to  be  given 
them  as  fishers  of  men  ?  When  that  success  came, 
they  would  not  thank  themselves,  but  only  Him. 
It  is  sometimes  said  that  great  spiritual  success, 
like  great  earthly  success,  tends  to  make  the  heart 
proud ;  and  that  one  so  honoured  will  need  great 
grace  to  keep  him  low.  Ah !  the  success  itself 
will  humble  him,  if  he  is  a  true  man  of  God  at 


352      THE  THOUGHTFULNESS  OF  CHRIST 

all.  To  think  that  God  should  so  bless  liim^  sinful 
as  he  is — that  of  itself  will  make  him  lie  very  low, 
and  give  God  the  glory.  Let  me  so  honour  my 
Master  all  along ;  and  then,  when  the  long  night 
is  past,  and  in  the  early  morning  of  the  Eternal 
Day  He  provides  for  me  the  feast  upon  the  shore, 
I  shall  not  doubt  whose  voice  it  is  I  hear,  whose 
love  it  is  I  taste.  I  shall  know  in  a  moment  that 
"it  is  the  Lord" — for  none  hut  He  could  do  so 
gracious  a  thing  as  that — my  Lord  and  Master 
thus  fulfilling  to  me  His  promise,  "  I  will  sup  with 
him,  and  he  with  Me,"  and  saying  on  the  shore  of 
heaven,  just  what  He  said  on  the  shore  of  the  Syrian 
lake,  "  Come  and  dine." 


LI 

THE  DEEPEST  QUESTION  OF  ALL 

"  Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  lovcst  thou  Me  more  than  these  ?  " — 
John  xxi.  15. 

A  DEEPLY  affecting  question  this  !  and  the  shame- 
stricken  Peter  must  have  felt  it  so ;  for,  though  it 
gave  him  the  opportunity  of  a  new  and  very  sin- 
cere declaration  of  love  to  his  Lord,  it  could  not 
fail  to  remind  him,  gently  yet  keenly,  how  his 
former  protestations  had  been  belied.  But  it  is 
worthy  of  note  that  when  Jesus  asked,  "  Lovest 
thou  Me  more  than  these  ?  "  Peter  made  no  refer- 
ence to  the  "  more  than  these"  in  his  reply.  He 
was  done  now  with  all  boastful  comparisons.  He 
would  not  now  even  hint  that  he  was  a  better 
disciple  than  the  rest.  Too  humble  now  for  that, 
he  only  said,  "  Thou  knowest  that  I  love  Thee." 

The  Master's  use  of  the  old  name  "  Simon," 
instead  of  the  new  name,  ''  Peter,"  was  suggestive 
of  much.    It  was  not  to  imply  that  he  had  for- 

24  353 


354       THE  DEEPEST  QUESTION  OF  ALL 

feited  all  right  to  the  new  name;  but  it  was  a 
gentle  reminder  to  him  of  the  weakness  which  had 
led  to  his  denial ;  and  it  would  recall  to  him  the 
Master's  words  hefore  his  fall,  when  He  purposely 
abstained  from  giving  him  the  name  that  implied 
firmness  and  strength,  but  used  instead  the  old 
name,  "  Simon,"  which  bore  to  "  Peter"  the  same 
relation  that  ^^  Jacob''  (the  "  supplanter  ")  bore  to 
''Israel''  (the  '^  prince  of  God ")  —  "  Simon, 
Simon,  Satan  desired  to  have  thee,  that  he 
might  sift  thee  as  wheat,  but  I  prayed  for  thee 
that  thy  faith  might  not  fail." 

Very  lovingly  had  Jesus  already  assured  the 
penitent  disciple  of  His  forgiveness.  One  of  the 
first  messages  He  sent  as  the  Eisen  One  was  a 
message  specially  to  Peter.  One  of  the  first 
private  interviews  He  gave  to  any  disciple  was 
given  to  Peter ;  and  from  that  interview  he  must 
have  come  away  knowing  himself  to  be  a  fully 
pardoned  man.  Still,  the  use  of  the  old  name 
here  again  must  have  gone  to  Peter's  heart, 
making  him  think,  with  new  shame  and  sorrow, 
of  his  old  self-confidence  and  pride. 

But  all  his  pride  was  now  thoroughly  killed. 
He  had  learned,  at  last,  to  take  the  lowest  place, 
which  is  the  only  safe  place  for  any  man  to  take. 
Probably,  none  of  the  eleven  did  love  the  Master 
so  deeply  as  he ;  but  he  would  not  say  so,  or  even 
think  so,  now.  He  had  profited  by  his  terrible 
fall.     He  had  grown  greatly  in  grace  since  then, 


THE  DEEPEST  QUESTION  OF  ALL       355 

grown  in  knowledge  of  himself,  as  well  as  in 
knowledge  of  his  Lord;  and  all  he  now  said 
showed  him  clothed  in  that  beautiful  humility 
which  is  one  of  the  surest  marks  of  maturity  in 
the  school  of  Christ.  He  was  "grieved,"  indeed, 
when,  for  a  third  time,  Jesus  asked  him,  "  Lovest 
thou  me  ?  "  for  that  looked  as  if  the  Master  was 
still  suspicious  of  him;  but  there  was  no  anger, 
no  irritation,  in  Peter  even  then.  He  only  said, 
with  eager  voice,  "  Lord,  Thou  knowest  all  things ; 
Thou  knowest  that  I  love  Thee."  Such  a  restora- 
tion from  backsliding  as  had  been  vouchsafed  to 
Peter  is  always  sure  to  make  an  exceedingly 
humble  soul.  There  is  no  more  tender,  humble 
heart  to  be  found  anywhere  than  the  heart  of  a 
recovered  backslider.  It  is  at  once  a  humble  and 
a  joyful  heart ;  humble,  because  its  sin  it  can 
never  forget ;  joyful,  because  God  has  forgotten  it 
for  ever.  The  joy  of  pardon  never  destroys 
humility.  The  joy  and  the  humihty  go  hand  in 
hand. 

But  now,  let  me  take  this  as  my  Master's 
question  to  myself ;  and  see  how  deep  it  goes,  not 
only  into  my  feelings,  but  into  my  life.  For  it  is 
not,  "Believest  thou  Me?"  or  "  Understandest 
thou  Me  ?  "  or  "  Confessest  thou  Me  ?  "  or  "  Obey- 
est  thou  Me?"  or  even,  '' Servest  thou  Me?" 
It  goes  closer  home.  It  is,  "  Lovest  thou  Me  ?  "  ; 
and  all  these  other  things  may  be  where  love 
is  not.     Again,  He  does  not   ask,   "Lovest  thou 


356       THE  DEEPEST  QUESTION  OF  ALL 

My  word?"  or  '' Lovest  thou  My  work?"  or 
"  Lovest  thou  My  brethren  ?  "  He  asks,  **  Lovest 
thou  Me  ?  "  And  yet  again,  He  does  not  ask, 
"Art  thou  in  the  company  of  those  that  love 
Me  ? "  He  will  not  let  me  shelter  myself  by 
losing  myself  in  a  crowd  who  all  profess  to  love 
Him.  He  brings  me  out  into  the  light,  to  stand 
alone,  and  asks,  "Lovest  tJio2i  Me?" 

What  answer  shall  I  give?  It  is  easy,  in  a 
glow  of  enthusiasm,  to  say,  "  Lord,  thou  knowest 
that  I  love  Thee,"  but  how  difficult  it  is  to  sJiotv 
my  love  in  unmistakable  and  practical  ways !  I 
am  often  finding  myself  in  circumstances  where 
my  love  to  Him  is  tested,  and  severely  tested,  too. 
I  am  often  so  placed  that  I  must  choose  between 
following  Him  and  following  the  world  that  is 
utterly  opposed  to  Him — between  openly  confess- 
ing Him  and  meanly  being  ashamed  of  Him.  A 
real  confession  of  my  love  to  this  Divine  Master 
will  sometimes  cost  much  self-denial:  the  loss  of 
the  world's  love,  for  the  sake  of  keeping  His ;  the 
loss,  perhaps,  of  some  of  the  world's  high  honours 
and  rewards,  if  I  stand  true  to  Him ;  the  loss, 
even,  of  the  love  of  friends  who  are  dear  as  my 
very  life.  I  may  have  to  suffer  things  as  painful 
as  the  cutting  off  of  a  right  hand  or  the  plucking 
out  of  a  right  eye.  And  yet,  when  My  Master 
asks  me  to  show,  in  this  way,  my  devotion  to 
Him,  He  does  not  argue  with  me ;  He  only  says — 
and  that  implies  everything — *'  Lovest  tJiou  Me  ? 


THE  DEEPEST  QUESTION  OF  ALL       357 

I  made  myself  of  no  reputation  for  thee ;  Lovest 
tJiou  Me  ?  I  hid  not  My  face  from  shame  and 
spitting  for  thee ;  Lovest  thou  Me  ?  I  died  for 
thee ;  Lovest  thou  Me  ?  He  that  hath  My  com- 
mandments and  keepeth  them,  he  it  is  that  loveth 
Me ;  Lovest  thou  Me  ?  "  That  is  all  He  says  ;  but 
surely  it  is  enough.  When  He  shows  me  sins 
that  must  be  relinquished,  if  I  am  to  enjoy  His 
fellowship ;  when  He  shows  me  that  the  way  to 
heaven  is  too  narrow  for  the  great  burdens  of 
worldliness  that  I  want  to  carry  on  my  shoulders ; 
and,  pointing  to  all  the  attractions  of  the  broad 
road  which  He  wants  me  to  contemn,  asks  me  if  I 
am  willing  to  make  a  complete  surrender,  He  only 
puts  it  thus,  ^^ Lovest  thou  Me?"  For  what  He 
wants  from  me  is  a  practical  expression  of  my 
theoretical  love,  an  expression  in  act,  as  well  as  on 
the  lip;  and,  though  it  may  be  a  hard,  it  will 
always  be  a  blessed,  answer,  if  I  can  give  it, 
"  Lord,  thou  seest  all  things,  Thou  seest  that  I  love 
Thee." 

And  others  ought  to  see  it  too.  My  love  to 
Christ  ought  to  be  a  visible  love.  Let  me  ask 
myself,  therefore,  what  proofs  of  my  love  to 
Christ  I  am  giving  in  my  daily  life.  From  my 
demeanour  and  conversation  in  my  home  would 
any  one  gather  that  I  love  my  Lord  and  Saviour 
with  an  ardent  love  ?  If  I  never  talk  about  Him 
as  worthy  of  love,  how  can  others  believe  that  I 
regard  Him  so  ?     If  I  never  boldly  take  His  part, 


358       THE  DEEPEST  QUESTION  OF  ALL 

when  His  laws  are  despised,  or  His  authority  is 
contemned ;  if  I  see,  and  do  not  rebuke,  the  sins 
that  dishonour  and  grieve  Him,  how  can  I  make 
good  my  profession  of  loyal  love  to  Himself  ?  If 
I  never  think  of  Him  or  speak  of  Him  as  a  dear 
friend,  who  is  gone  away  for  a  time,  but  is  soon 
to  come  again ;  if  my  heart  never  thrills  with  joy 
in  the  hope  of  His  "glorious  appearing,"  so  that  I 
am  setting  everything  in  order  to  meet  His  eye, 
how  can  I  prove  my  possession  of  that  love  to 
which  separation  is  a  sorrow  ?  Do  I  make  my 
love  to  Him  as  plain  and  incontrovertible  as  He 
makes  His  love  to  me  ?  I  have  never  to  ash  Him, 
"  Lovest  Thou  me  ?  "  If  I  did.  He  would  answer 
in  a  moment,  by  pointing  to  the  ^roof  He  gave  of 
that,  and  say,  "  Behold  My  hands  and  My  feet." 
He  bears  in  His  glorified  body  the  "  print  of  the 
nails,"  proofs  of  His  wonderful  love  to  me.  But 
what  a  contrast  between  that  love  and  mine ! 
His  so  strong  J  and  mine  so  weak ;  His  so  change- 
less, and  mine  so  fickle  ;  His  so  active,  and  mine 
so  indolent ;  His  so  open,  and  mine  so  secret ;  His 
so  ardent,  and  mine  so  cold ! 

Nothing  but  meditating  on  His  love  can  tho- 
roughly kindle  mine,  or  make  it  glow  as  a  living 
fire.  It  was  that  alone  that  stirred  the  heart  of 
Peter  ;  and  that  alone  can  stir  this  heart  of  mine. 
I  cannot  force  myself  to  love  Christ.  Love  never 
comes  that  way.  I  think  of  His  love  to  me,  and 
then  my  heart  goes  out  to  meet  that  love  of  His. 


THE  DEEPEST  QUESTION  OF  ALL       359 

My  Love  goes  out,  just  because,  first  of  all,  E.is 
love  has  come  in. 

Would  that  I  could  both  feel  and  show  that 
'*  the  love  of  Christ  constraineth  me,  to  live  not 
to  myself,  but  unto  Him."  That  would  be  my 
daily  victory,  as  well  as  my  daily  joy :  for,  far 
stronger  than  the  power  of  fear  is  the  sweet  power 
of  love.  It  is  possible  to  give  up  sin,  and  make 
sacrifices  for  God,  by  saying,  "  The  fear  of  hell 
compelleth  me  " ;  but  that  will  only  make  life  a 
burden,  and  each  act  of  sacrifice  a  pain.  When  I 
can  put  it  quite  otherwise,  and  give  as  my  motive 
this,  "the  love  of  Christ  constraineth  me,"  my 
heart  is  light,  and  every  sacrifice  a  joy. 

"  Lord,  it  is  my  chief  complaint, 
That  my  love  is  weak  and  faint; 
Yet  I  love  Thee,  and  adore ; 
Oh  for  grace  to  love  Thee  more  1 ' 


LII 

A  SINGLE  EYE 

"Peter  seeing  him  saith  to  Jesus,  Lord,  and  what  shall  this 
man  do  ?  Jesus  saith  unto  him,  If  I  will  that  he  tarry  till  I  come, 
what  is  that  to  thee  ?  Follow  thou  Me."— John  xxi.  21,  22. 

In  this  last  question  from  my  Master's  lips,  I  find 
one  of  His  most  comprehensive  directions  for  my 
Christian  life.  He  carries  me  away  beyond  all  my 
speculative  and  practical  difficulties  by  saying 
"  What  is  that  to  thee  ?  ",  and  He  sums  up  all  my 
duty  in  the  simple  words,  "  Follow  thou  Me." 

As  meant  for  Peter,  there  was  a  manifest  allusion 
in  them  to  his  former  boast,  **  Lord,  I  will  follow 
Thee  to  prison  and  to  death."  The  Lord  went 
back  to  that  old  profession,  and  said,  *'You 
remember  how  you  wished  to  follow  Me;  well,  I 
take  you  at  your  word,  you  shall  not  only  die  for 
Me,  but  die  lilie  Me  too."  How  accurate  a  record 
does  this  Master  keep  of  His  disciples'  professions  ! 
Never  does  any  protestation  of  loyalty  fall  from 

2C0 


A  SINGLE  EYE  361 

me,  but  He  will  remind  me  of  it  some  day,  and 
claim  a  fulfilment  of  it. 

It  might  be  supposed  that  Peter's  question  about 
John  arose  from  a  feeling  of  jealousy,  but  it  was 
rather  the  fruit  of  curiosity,  springing  out  of  the 
ardent  affection  that  bound  these  two  men  together. 
John  and  he  had  long  been  the  closest  of  friends ; 
and  Peter,  with  a  vision  of  suffering  before  him, 
wonders  whether,  in  the  future  as  in  the  past,  he 
will  have  the  companionship  of  John:  "What 
shall  be  the  lot  appointed  for  liim  ?  Shall  we  still 
be  together,  or  shall  I  henceforth  be  without  the 
help  and  sympathy  of  my  dearest  friend  ?  "  There 
was  no  jealousy ;  only  affection.  But  the  tone  of 
the  Master's  reply  shows  that  Peter  was  still,  as 
he  had  always  been,  too  much  of  a  "busybody  in 
other  men's  matters,"  too  fond  of  looking  after  and 
managing  others,  just  as  he  had  more  than  once 
tried  to  manage  the  Master  Himself.  There  is  an 
accent  of  rebuke,  therefore,  in  the  question  "  What 
is  that  to  Thee  ?  " 

But,  leaving  Peter,  let  me  carry  this  question 
into  every  department  of  my  own  life — my  specula- 
tive life  on  the  one  hand,  and  my  practical  life  on 
the  other ;  for  it  will  not  fail  to  be  a  helpful  guide 
in  both.  One  thing,  at  least,  comes  very  clearly 
here  to  view;  that  the  main  business  of  every 
Christian  is  with  himself.  With  the  destinies  of 
others,  and  even  with  the  duties  of  others,  he  has 
very  much  less  to  do  than  with  his  own. 


362  A  SINGLE  EYE 

Some  men,  of  ardent,  energetic  temperament, 
seem  to  have  very  exaggerated  ideas  of  the  extent 
of  their  responsibihty.  They  seem  to  live  only  to 
keep  all  other  people  straight.  No  heresy  can  any- 
where be  broached,  but  they  must  rush  to  the  front 
and  expose  it.  No  iniquity  can  anywhere  be 
practised,  but  they  must  drag  it  into  the  light  to 
condemn  it.  God  made  them  keepers  of  their  own 
vineyards,  but  they  spend  all  their  time  in  looking 
after  other  men's  vines.  Unquestionably  there  is 
something  noble  in  this  temper ;  but  there  is  some- 
thing quixotic  too ;  and  Christ  seems  here  to  teach 
that  He  imposes  upon  no  man  such  a  responsibility. 
The  world  is  sadly  full  of  evil,  scepticism,  infidelity, 
superstition,  immorality,  on  every  side.  What,  then, 
am  I  as  a  Christian  to  do  ?  Simply  to  obey  my 
Master's  command,  "  Follow  thou  Me, — protest 
assuredly,  where  a  protest  must  be  made,  to  clear 
yourself  of  all  complicity  in  sin ;  protest  where  a 
protest  is  needed  to  save  a  brother,  and  to  put  a 
wrong-doer  to  shame ;  but  before  all  that,  be  thou  a 
true  disciple,  whoever  may  be  false ;  be  thou  thyself 
a  holy  example  of  justice  and  mercy  and  purity 
and  truth,  though  all  the  world  should  be  only 
a  sweltering  mass  of  impiety,  and  impurity,  and 
wrong." 

The  application,  however,  of  the  Master's  words 
may  legitimately  be  carried  farther  than  this. 
There  are  many  things  I  may  wish  to  know,  which 
really  do  not  concern  me  much ;  and  which  I  had 


A  SINGLE  EYE  363 

better  leave  in  the  obscurity  where  God  has  left 
them,  till  the  breaking  of  the  day.  My  curiosity 
would  sometimes  like  to  be  able  to  read  the  course 
of  His  future  providence,  not  only  regarding  myself, 
but  also  regarding  the  world  at  large.  I  try  to 
construct  out  of  dim  prophetic  intimations,  an 
exact  picture  of  the  future  history  of  the  nations 
of  the  earth.  I  am  tempted  to  read  the  *'  Book  of 
Eevelation  "  as  if  it  were  a  sort  of  time-table  and 
almanac  combined ;  and  try  to  find  there  the  exact 
day  when  the  battle  of  Armageddon  will  be  fought, 
the  precise  hour  for  the  rapture  of  the  saints,  the 
very  minute  of  the  final  victory,  when  the  Lord 
*' shall  descend  from  heaven  with  a  shout."  Follies 
like  these  bring  a  sober  forecasting  of  future  perils 
into  disrepute,  and  do  incalculable  damage  to 
faith.  The  Master's  words  need  to  be  remembered 
still,  ''It  is  not  for  you  to  know  the  times  and  the 
seasons  which  the  Father  has  put  in  His  own 
power";  and  so,  from  all  fantastic  speculations 
about  the  destinies  of  the  world's  kingdoms  and 
thrones.  He  brings  me  back  to  the  safer  region 
of  humble  duty,  saying  "  What  is  that  to  thee  ? 
Follow  thou  Me." 

The  present  course  of  God's  providence,  too,  may 
sometimes  disquiet  and  perplex,  when  the  thoughts 
revert,  not  only  inquiringly,  but  complainingly,  to 
the  seeming  injustice  of  His  ways.  Why  is  one 
home  almost  exempt  from  sorrows,  while  another 
beside  it  is  overwhelmed  by  a  constant  succession 


364  A  SINGLE  EYE 

of  them?  Why  are  the  young,  with  all  life's 
possibilities  opening  out  before  them,  so  often  cut 
down  before  they  have  been  able  to  accomplish  any- 
thing ;  and  the  aged,  whose  work  is  past,  kept 
lying  for  years  in  uselessness,  like  stranded  hulks 
dropping  to  pieces  by  slow  decay  ?  Why  does 
death  take  away  the  stay  of  the  home  just  when 
dependent  little  ones  need  most  a  parent's  care ; 
while  others  who  have  long  been  tottering  on  the 
edge  of  the  grave  are  left  to  linger  on,  a  burden  to 
themselves  ?  Why  are  the  great  riches  of  the 
world  not  more  equally  divided  ?  Why  is  gold 
poured  into  one  man's  lap,  while  hundreds  of  far 
better  men  than  he,  are,  in  spite  of  all  that  industry 
and  prudence  can  do,  perpetually  defeated  in  the 
race?  Many  a  true-hearted  Christ-follower  feels 
that  surely  there  is  something  wrong  in  all 
this.  For,  say  what  he  will  about  the  compensa- 
tions which  God  provides  in  present  enrichments 
of  grace,  say  what  he  will  about  the  grander 
recompenses  of  eternity,  it  is  no  easy  thing  for  a 
crushed  and  defeated  man  to  be  still,  and  keep 
all  murmuring  down.  But  if  anything  will  help 
him,  this  question  of  the  Master's  will  (for  He 
knew  well  what  a  crushed  life  means),  ''  What  is 
that  to  thee  ?    Follow  thou  Me." 

This  same  question  may  suffice  to  carry  me  over 
difficulties  connected  with  doctrines  of  the  faith 
that  rest  upon  unrevealed  mysteries  behind  them. 
If  I  am  perplexing  myself  with  such  things  as  the 


A  SINGLE  EYE  365 

fall  of  man,  the  sin  of  the  angels,  the  salvability  of 
the  heathen,  the  locality  of  heaven,  and  of  the 
spirits  in  prison,  the  decrees  of  God  that  seem 
to  destroy  the  free  will  of  man,  or  that  great 
problem  that  presses  with  equal  force  on  the  brain 
of  the  wisest  philosopher  and  the  heart  of  the  little 
child,  why  God  permitted  the  entrance  of  sin  into 
the  world  at  the  first,  and  why  He  permits  its 
dominion  still ;  I  can  not  only  calm  myself  by  the 
reflection  that  probably  these  are  depths  that  no 
created  mind  can  sound ;  but  still  more  by  the 
voice  of  my  heavenly  Lord,  who  does  not  explain 
any  one  of  them,  but  says,  "  Leave  mysteries  to 
God,  and  do  thou  thine  own  work  of  following 
Me." 

It  is  very  unimportant  for  me  to  know  how  many 
will  be  saved  at  last ;  but  it  is  immensely  import- 
ant to  make  sure  that  I  am  saved  myself.  It  is 
quite  unessential  to  know  whether  there  is  hope 
for  the  heathen  who  have  never  seen  the  Light ; 
but  it  is  all-essential  to  make  sure  that  I, 
seeing  it,  do  not  perish  through  despising  it. 
It  matters  little  whether  or  not  I  know  how 
sin  began ;  but  it  matters  greatly  whether  I 
am  accepting  the  grace  that  takes  sin  away. 
Should  I  refuse  to  enter  the  lifeboat  that  waits 
to  rescue  me  from  the  burning  ship,  till  I  satisfy 
my  curiosity  about  the  origin  of  the  fire  ?  What 
my  Lord  and  Master  promises  me  is  not  a  perfect 
insight ;  but  a  ijerfect  rest.     I  may  well  be  content 


366  A  SINGLE  EYE 

to  be  ignorant  of  what  He  has  not  seen  it  needful 
to  reveal.  At  least,  the  power  of  perplexities  to 
unsettle  me  will  be  over,  when  I  listen  obediently 
to  His  voice  saying,  **  What  is  that  to  thee  ? 
Follow  thou  Me." 

In  the  region  of  practical  discipleship  too,  let 
me  get  guidance  from  these  words.  The  difficulty 
of  making  a  true  stand  for  Christ  in  the  world  is 
always  a  real  one ;  but  sometimes  it  becomes 
exceedingly  acute.  When  I  am  laughed  at  for 
my  scrupulosity  by  nearly  every  friend  beside  me ; 
when,  not  only  in  my  larger  social  circle,  but  in 
my  own  family,  I  meet  only  with  coldness  or 
sneers ;  the  force  of  the  current  drags  me  down 
against  my  will,  and  I  am  sometimes  nearly  swept 
oS  my  feet ;  I  begin  to  feel  that  it  is,  perhaps, 
presumptuous  in  me  to  take  so  lofty  a  tone.  All 
round  me  think  me  ''  fanatical,"  and  tell  me  I  am 
"righteous  over  much,"  till  I  begin  to  doubt 
whether  I  am  right  in  determining  to  be  so 
separate  from  the  world's  ways,  since  all  I  seem 
to  gain  by  it  is  the  nickname  of  a  "bigot,"  and 
a  "Pharisee." 

Just  in  that  mood,  let  me  listen  to  the  great 
Master's  voice,  "  What  is  that  to  thee  ?  Follow 
thou  Me  "  ;  and  that  will  nerve  me  at  once.  The 
"offence  of  the  cross"  is  still  as  great  as  ever; 
"All  that  will  live  godly  in  Christ  Jesus  must 
suffer  persecution  "  ;  "A  man's  foes,  still,  are  often 
those  of  his  own  household."     But  what  finer  field 


A  SINGLE  EYE  367 

could  I  desire  for  showing  how  true  my  heart  is 
beating  to  Christ  than  just  this  one  where,  if  I 
follow  Him  at  all,  I  must  follow  through  thorns 
and  briars  that  tear  me  at  every  step  ?  To  all  my 
discouragements,  and  all  my  doubts.  He  has  but 
this  one  reply,  ''  Friends  may  misjudge  you,  the 
world  may  revile  you,  your  own  brethren  in  the 
Kingdom  may  not  sympathise  with  you,  but  what 
then  ?  I,  your  Lord,  had  once  to  stand  alone,  un- 
befriended,  misjudged,  ridiculed,  for  you;  will  you 
be  afraid  to  stand  alone  and  be  scorned  for  Me. 
What  is  all  that  to  thee  ?    Folloio  thou  Me.'' 


Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Libraries 


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